


Oats In The Water

by StarSapphireWolf



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkwardness, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Jessie and Sam Anderson are Dead, Multi, Non-Consensual Touching, Post-Alexandria Herd, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sexual Content, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-05-30 02:21:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 34,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6404767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarSapphireWolf/pseuds/StarSapphireWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Carl.” Ron whispered and Carl could see the sweat on his forehead, realizing that Ron must be as scared as he was.</p><p>He tightened his hold on the older teen’s hand, “Yeah?”</p><p>“Don’t let me go.”</p><p>Carl knew he wasn’t just talking about his hand, that this was so much more. They couldn’t go back from this, “Never.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I just wanted to let you know that in this fic it has been a year since Rick and the group joined Alexandria. Carl is seventeen, Ron is eighteen, and Judith is two. I know that Carl and Judith are supposed to be younger than that, but for the sake of the fic, I wanted them to be older, but still on the right timeline. If that makes any sense?
> 
> Anyways! I really hope you enjoy this and I welcome any and all feedback that you have for me.
> 
> Thank you.

**Oats In The Water**

**Part I**

“Things break, but they can still grow.”

– Hershel Greene

 

The soft sound of wind from the rolled down window echoed throughout the car as Carl and Ron made their way down the road. Neither spoke to each other as they both feared what was to happen in their near future. Would it be theirs though? Would they be separated? Carl swallowed audibly at the thought and released a heavy sigh when he felt Ron’s cold hand over his. He linked their fingers and squeezed once. Carl rubbed the back of Ron’s hand with his thumb in appreciation. They stayed like that for a while, just driving down the straight, empty road and clinging to each other.

That is, until Ron broke the silence abruptly, “You need to turn right up at this stop sign.” He folded up the map in his lap and tucked it into the glove compartment.

Carl nodded, eyes on the road. He felt tense, ready to shoot out of his seat. He wished that they didn’t have to do this, but he knew it had to be done; to protect everyone in Alexandria from another disaster. To protect Judith. Michonne. Daryl. Glenn. Maggie. Everyone. His dad, who always tried to protect him and Judith first. How ironic. He glanced at Ron, who kept stroking the back of his hand at random times, to see him staring out his window, a hardened expression on his face. His hazel eyes tracked the moving landscape in a trance-like state. Carl frowned to himself and wished that everything could be different. Not just this moment, but the whole world. That the apocalypse would’ve never happened and that Ron and Carl could’ve met in a normal environment; that they could have fell in love, dated, and got to think about their future together. Just a normal, simple life. Yet, sometimes things in life happen for a reason.

Carl turned right at the stop sign and swallowed audibly at the site of the group a few yards away. He saw Daryl, Sasha, and Aaron were all on their knees, lined up in a row with guns pressed against their heads. A man stood in front of them all, hands on his hips and a proud smirk on his face that had Carl’s stomach rolling.

The car rolled to a stop and Carl put it into park a few feet away. He met Daryl’s eyes nervously, seeing the slight shimmer of hope. A rare feature from the usually reserved man. He felt his hands start to shake, wondering once again if this was a good idea. He broke eye contact with Daryl at the feel of Ron’s hand on his again. He met Ron’s hazel eyes, trying to memorize the beautiful combination of blues, greys, and greens within them, and desperately hoped that this wouldn’t be the last time he would see those colors.

“Carl.” Ron whispered and Carl could see the sweat on his forehead, realizing that Ron must be as scared as he was.

He tightened his hold on the older teen’s hand, “Yeah?”

“Don’t let me go.”

Carl knew he wasn’t just talking about his hand, that this was so much more. They couldn’t go back from this, “Never.”

The two teens stepped out of the car and grimly walked towards their new fate just as the sky began to turn to hues of purple and orange.

 

**Two Months Earlier…**

 

Smoke danced in the air after Carl blew out his candles. Everyone cheered and clapped around him. It had been a year since the group joined Alexandria. Tara thought it was a good idea to keep track of the date since Deanna had calendars. Rick agreed with her and mentioned that it would be nice for Carl to know how old he was now. Carl had smirked at him and wondered if it really mattered what age he was after all that he’d been through. His dad said that it mattered to him and now here they were, celebrating Carl’s seventeenth birthday.

He got a clap on the back by Daryl before the man stuck a finger into his cake and ate it. Carol scolded the man and shooed him away as Carl laughed gleefully, knowing that Daryl was just having some fun. No one could resist Carol’s cooking anyways. He felt such happiness fill him as he looked around at his makeshift family. He made it through seventeen years of his life and he wouldn’t have been able to do it without the people surrounding him. He felt a hand lightly grip the back of his neck and, knowing who it was, grinned up at his dad. Rick smiled back at him, not so much a rare sight to see nowadays, and sat down in the chair slightly adjacent from him.

“I have something for you.”

“Presents on my birthday? Who would’ve thought?” Carl sniped cheekily.

Rick huffed at his sarcasm and reached behind himself, pulling something from the back of his pants, “Michonne told me that I should’ve wrapped it up, but I couldn’t exactly find any wrapping paper, so. . . .”

Carl stared wide-eyed at the metal object in his dad’s hand as it was handed to him. The weight of it and the texture of it just clicked with him and it felt as though he regained a limb, “I can’t believe you found it!” It was his pistol, his Beretta 92FS, the one that had a deep nick on the grip and his initials carved into the barrel.

“Trust me, it wasn’t easy. I’m actually surprised that Ron could throw that far.” His dad chuckled and Carl released a small huff of amusement.

During the early months, right after the herd had burst through the walls and Ron’s mother, Jessie, and his brother, Sam, were torn apart by Walkers, Ron had gone through a rough time. Alexandria may have been safe and the walls were put back up, but Ron was still greatly impacted by the quick and brutal death of his remaining family. He had several breakdowns and angry outbursts. Carl tried helping him through his time of grief, for he understood the loss of family and what Ron was going through. A majority of the time, his help was a success and Ron and Carl began to trust one another. But one day, nothing could stop Ron.

It was in the middle of the night and Carl was woken up to the sound of screaming coming from outside. Grabbing his gun, him, as well as the rest of his family, all rushed out of the house and out onto the streets. Carl looked around to see that what was left of the Alexandrians all rushed out of their homes as well to figure out what was going on. What Carl laid his eyes on, was a sad sight. Ron was pacing up and down the street, slamming his hands against his face. He would stop his pacing to scream out at the empty air, yelling profanities and other unintelligible words. His eyes were bloodshot and the bags underneath them were profoundly dark. It looked as though he hadn’t slept in days. Carl saw his dad try and approach Ron and Carl reached out and gently grabbed his arm, stopping him. Rick looked back towards him, unasked questions in his eyes. Carl shook his head and began walking towards Ron with both hands raised in a calming gesture.

“Ron, hey man.” Said teen’s eyes snapped toward him, “What’s going on? You okay?”

Ron scoffed harshly at him, “Am I okay? Did you really just fucking ask me that, _Carl_?” He spat out, “What kind of stupid fucking question is that! Of course I’m not okay! No one’s okay! We’re all fucked up!”

“Whoa, hey, I’m just trying to help you. Okay? How about we get in the house and we can sit down and talk about what’s making you upset, yeah?”

The sneer that Carl got was not what he was expecting, “Do you really expect me to sit down with you and chat about my problems and act like everything’s okay? Like we’re sitting down and just having some fucking tea! You have got to be _shitting_ me right now!” Ron started pacing again. His hands ran through his hair repeatedly and his breath became heavy and audible, “We’re all dead. All of us, Carl. I’ve told you this before.” He pointed at him, fist white, “You’re dead! I’m dead! We’re all fucking dead! My mom, my brother, my dad . . . fuck. Fuck! FUCK!” Tears rolled from Ron’s bloodshot eyes and the teen curled into himself.

“Ron?” At the mention of his name, Ron sprang from his position and bolted down the street, “Ron!” Carl shouted after him. He knew no one else would go after Ron, that no one wanted to deal with a messed up teen in a messed up world. Before he could move, though, his dad gripped his arm and held him back. Carl looked up into his father’s blue eyes, so similar to his own.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Carl nodded, “everything’s okay.” The teen took off after his damaged friend, leaving his father to watch his back disappear into the dark with a troubled look.

“Ron!” Carl shouted desperately, hoping to halt the teen from running. He was only a few feet from Ron and he knew that Ron was starting to get tired, not used to running as much as Carl was and also from how sleep deprived he must be. Carl felt an ache in his chest. All he wanted was to help his friend get better, but losing a family member was like losing a limb. Nothing would be the same after they’re gone and Ron lost all three members of his family. Carl didn’t know what he would do if he lost his dad. He knows his first reaction would be anger, just like Ron. Carl knew that this wasn’t who Ron was, a bitter, angry mess. He was kind and caring, full of laughter and fun.

Ron and Carl stopped a few feet away from the walls. Ron sneered at the walls before whipping his head around to glare at Carl. Carl planted his feet in the ground, determined not to leave Ron by himself. He stared into Ron’s bloodshot eyes, so cloudy from lack of sleep that Carl could barely see the collage of blues, greys, and greens. His hair was a tangled, sweaty nest. His clothes were ragged and dirty, like he hadn’t washed them in days. The two stood there, their breath turning into fog in the night air. Carl felt in that moment a surge to protect Ron from anything, everything, and everyone. That this boy had been through too much and needed kindness, someone to hang on to. At least, just one more time. Carl decided, as he stared into Ron’s tearful eyes, full of fear and anger, that he would Ron’s anchor. His family. His friend.

“What are you looking at, _Carl_?” Ron pulled him from his thoughts with a venomous tone, “I _hate_ when you look at me like that! Like I’m something to pity. I’m not! I never will be! You can fuck off! And so can your dad! And the rest of your fucking family! You,” Ron pointed at him once again, jabbing his finger into Carl’s chest at every work, “you and your fucking guns and your fucking hat and your fucking face and your fucking _family_.”

“Ron,” They were nearly chest to chest now, “I know it’s hard. I know what you’re going through. When I lost my mom,” Carl swallowed audibly, “it was hard for me to _not_ be angry at the world. To blame everyone for what happened and just listen to the “what if’s”. . . .”

Ron shook his head vehemently and started to shake, wrapping his arms around himself, “No, no, you don’t get it.”

Carl nodded, gently holding on to Ron’s biceps, trying to make Ron look him in the eyes, “Hey, hey, look at me. I want to help you. You can make it through this, I promise. You’re a survivor, we all are. You don’t need to live in that house anymore, we can teach you how to survive, I’ll teach you how to shoot and-” He was cut off by Ron pushing him away.

“Fuck _off!_ I don’t need you fucking help or your fucking lessons!” Ron pushed Carl to the ground before grabbing the teen’s gun from his holster.

“Ron, don’t!”

“I can fucking shoot!” He proceeded to aim the gun at a random tree and fired multiple shots into the night. When he ran out of ammo, Ron turned and smirked at Carl, “Look, see, I don’t need any fuc-” When he inspected it closer, he realized that he only hit the tree once.

Carl stood up from his position, “Ron, I’m sorry, just please gi-”

“This is such _bullshit!_ _Fuck!_ ” Ron threw back his arm and chucked Carl’s Beretta 92FS over the wall. They both watched it soar in the air until it fell out of sight.

Carl stood, shocked and pissed. He shook himself and held back the rant he was going to release on Ron, knowing that he was in despair and needed more attention than his Beretta at the moment. He looked to see that Ron was sitting on the ground in defeat, tears running down his face. Carl sat down next to him and bumped their shoulders together.

“I’m sorry. . . .” Ron mumbled to him.

“It’s okay.” Carl gave him a small smile. Ron’s lips wobbled and he sniffed his nose before the teen pushed his head into Carl’s shoulder. Carl wrapped his arms around him and let him sob.

Carl was brought back to the present by the shrill scream of his baby sister, Judith. His little sister came barreling towards him, arms open wide and a huge smile on her face. She was two years old now, roughly. He grinned widely as he scooped her up into his arms and hugged her tight, “Hey Judy!”

“Carl look!” Judith held up some picked flowers that she must have gotten from one of the gardens, “Flowers!” She shoved them in front of his face.

He chuckled at her, his heart warming at the gesture, “Aww, thanks Judy!” He took the flowers from her and smelled them overdramatically, “They’re beautiful, I love them!” He hugged her tight before letting her back down. She bolted towards Daryl with excitement.

“Hey there, little ass kicker.” Daryl said while ruffling her hair.

“Daryl, language.” Carol scolded him once again, but smiled at him when he mocked her.

The party was interrupted by knocking on the door. Rick rose from his spot next to Carl to open it, only to be replaced by Michonne, who also stuck a finger into his cake.

She smirked at him and said blandly, “Oh, I wonder who that could be.”

Carl rolled his eyes at his best friend, knowing who she meant by that, but he couldn’t help but sit up when he heard his father, “Come on in, Ron.”

Carl’s cheeks hurt from the smile on his face, yet he couldn’t help himself. Ron walked in right after his dad, a blue beanie on his head and his regular t-shirt and his denim overcoat and brown khakis. His hands were in his pockets and his shoulders were hunched awkwardly. Ron had gotten used to Carl’s family over the past year, it took a while, but eventually he got to know everyone pretty well, but being surrounded by all of them still intimidated him. Carl chuckled at his awkwardness and pulled out one of the chairs next to him that wasn’t occupied by Michonne.

Ron waved his hand at all of them, “Hey everyone,” he got multiple greetings in return as he sat down. Carl could feel the heat in his cheeks when Ron turned to him, his eyes bright and a smile on his face, “Hey Carl.” He said breathily, “Happy birthday.”

Carl ducked his head, “Thanks.” He gestured towards the cake, “You want some?”

Ron nodded, “Uh yeah, sure. Did Carol make it?” The younger teen nodded, “Now I wouldn’t want to miss out on that.”

Carl smiled deviously when Carol came up behind Ron, unseen by the poor victim, and gently placed her hand on his shoulder. He gave a burst of laughter when Ron jumped, “Oh Jesus!”

“No, just Carol. Thank you Ron, I’m glad you enjoy my cooking.” Carol smiled calmly.

Ron shrunk more into himself and huffed out a funny laugh, “Ahaha yeah, of course!”

She patted his shoulder, “You should could by more, we don’t bite.” She rolled her head slightly, “Well, Daryl does, but still.”

Ron gave her a smile with too much teeth, “Will do.” With that, Carol stalked away and Ron shivered before turning back to Carl, “I’m sorry, but your family is kind of really frightening.”

“You don’t even know half of it.” Carl handed him a plate with a piece of cake on it before grabbing one for himself. They ate for a couple minutes until Carl spoke up, “Soo, no presents?” Ron’s eyes widened and he tried to hurry up and finish his bite, “I’m just kidding, man, you don’t _actually_ have to give me a present.” Ron stood up and scarfed down the rest of his plate, “Um, whoa man, calm down!”

Ron shook his head, “Are you finished?” He motioned towards Carl half-eaten piece.

“Uh, yeah, there will probably be mo-”

“Good, c’mon!” Ron gripped onto his wrist and tugged him out of his seat. Carl stumbled and adjusted his hat, trying to keep up with the older teen.

“Dad, I’ll be back later!” Carl shouted out as he was being dragged out the door by Ron.

Rick watched in confusion as his only son flew out the door. Michonne stepped beside him with a knowing look on her face.

Carl could feel the heat in his face as they walked down the road. Ron still hadn’t let go of his wrist even though they were at the same pace now. His stomach was doing all sorts of twists and turns, but he didn’t want Ron to let go. He realized that they were heading towards Ron’s house, well actually Aaron and Eric’s house. Ron moved in with them after his breakdown the night he threw Carl’s gun. Carl had offered for him to live with Carl and his family, but Ron couldn’t be around Rick during that time, so Aaron and Eric offered up their home to him and welcomed him with open arms. Ron got along with them well, from what he’s told Carl. Rick had asked Ron on his eighteenth birthday, just a month ago, if he would like a house for himself, but he had refused saying that he enjoyed Aaron and Eric’s company and would like to stay with them.

Ron started talking as soon as he entered the house with Carl following after him, “So, you remember that run we went on a couple weeks ago with Daryl?”

“At that farm house?”

“Yeah, and through the entire run you kept bitching about how your boots are falling apart?”

“Hey!” Carl glanced down at his dirty boots that were tearing at the seams and sighed, “Yeah. . . . ?”

“And you kept complaining about how there wasn’t any your size in storage and that you looked everywhere for them?” Ron opened the door to his room and stopped by his bed.

Carl took a couple steps in, cautious, “What does this have to do with anything?”

Ron grinned at him and went to pull a box out from underneath his bed, “I actually found some boots that were in your size at the farm house, so, happy birthday Carl.” He handed Carl the box, a shy smile on his face and put his hands in his pockets.

Carl gaped at Ron and the box before taking off the lid and looking inside. True to his word, there was a pair of boots of Carl’s size, full intact and not falling apart, “Ron, I-“

“Just put them on.”

He sat down on the bed and kicked off his dirty, old boots to put on his new ones. He let out a sigh of relief as he finished tying them and stood up.

“I would’ve given them to you earlier, but I just thought with your birthday coming up and all, that I’d just-oh.” Carl wrapped his arms around Ron and tucked his head under his chin. His stomach would not stop skipping and Ron hugging him back didn’t make it any better.

“Thank you.” Carl reluctantly stepped back, “I should probably head back, Daryl wants to pack up for our run tomorrow.”

Ron cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck, “Yeah, yeah, I’ve gotta pack too.”

Carl nodded and gave him a small smile, “See you later?”

Ron nodded, “See you later.”

With that, Carl walked out of the room, gently brushing Ron’s arm and touching his hand for a split second. Ron looked back at him, a blush high on his cheeks, and watched him go.

 

Daryl lugged his crossbow into the backseat of the car, his empty backpack following it. Carl strapped in his Beretta 92FS, smirking at the feel of it in his hands again. Ron started up the car, still trying to wake up so early in the morning.

Carl glanced over at Ron and couldn’t help but admire the way Ron was sitting in the front seat, with the door open and his leg hanging leisurely and his body still relaxed from sleep. He knew he felt something for Ron. It had grew through their friendship, ever since the beginning when he arrived at Alexandria. He felt it every time they locked eyes or walked too close, when they hung out together. Every moment they had together, Carl felt it in his heart. His chest would tighten, his palms would get sweaty, he’d feel hot, and his stomach would start doing jumping jacks. He couldn’t help how he felt, but he didn’t know Ron’s side of things. Hell, Carl didn’t even know what sexuality Ron was considering that he used to date Enid.

He was brought back from his thoughts at the sight of his dad walking towards them, hand on his pistol. Rick smiled at him and gripped the back of his neck. The group of three gathered around him, the early morning air chilling Carl’s skin. Rick spread out a map on the hood of the car.

“Alright, here’s the plan. Go about 40 miles out, search these towns here and here. Aim for food and medicine, that’s your top priority. You run into any trouble, just head straight back home. Avoid conflict as much as possible, we’ll talk about it when you get back. If you’re not back by tomorrow morning, we’re going to come looking for you. Is that clear?” The group nodded collectively, all observing the map, “Alright, start headin’ out.” Daryl hopped in the driver’s seat, leaving Carl to sit in the passenger seat and Ron in the back with the map.

It took an hour to get to the first town that Rick had pointed out. Daryl threw the car into park in the middle of the road in a suburban neighborhood. All three exited the car, guns up and ready. Carl studied the right side of the neighborhood carefully, making sure there was no living person in the area.

“Clear!” He heard Daryl shout.

“Clear!” Carl shouted back to him. He turned to Daryl, who nodded at him, gun down and held loosely, “Ron?” Carl looked around himself, wondering why the older teen didn’t shout back to them, “ _Ron_?” He said more urgently, heading towards the back of the car where Ron had headed.

“Cl-clear, sorry.” Carl sighed in relief when he saw Ron standing near the back of the car.

Daryl joined him, “What’s up, man?”

“Look.” Carl and Daryl looked where Ron was pointing. It was a large, two-story house with a car parked recklessly in the front lawn. The lawn was torn up by what looked like tire tracks from a different car. There was glass everywhere from the smashed windows of the car that was parked. What was most odd of all was the huge, yellow, spray painted words all over the car, lawn, and house.

**COLLECTED**

“Shit,” Daryl mumbled, “What the hell happened here?” He approached the house cautiously to look at the tracks, “It was a while ago, these aren’t new and they’re trampled on. Must have been about six people.”

“It’s probably another group,” Carl pointed out, “We should tell my dad.”

Daryl nodded, walking back to them, “Yeah, but first we gotta find some food.”

“Wait,” Ron said suddenly, “look around us. It’s everywhere.”

Carl whipped around, confused. He studied the houses around him again, only to see little places covered in the words.

**COLLECTED**

**NO COLLECTION**

**COLLECTED**

**NO COLLECTION**

**NO COLLECTION**

**COLLECTED**

“What the hell?” He whispered, chills running down his arms. They were everywhere, covering windows, roofs, cars, trees.

“C’mon, we need to start movin’ before we run out of daylight.” Daryl headed to one of the houses that said **NO COLLECTION**.

Ron looked at Carl skeptically, to which he just shrugged at him and followed Daryl. The older man hopped up the steps of the porch and pounded on the door, listening for any Walkers. Carl aimed his gun for the door and nodded for Daryl to open it. Daryl opened the door and Carl stepped in, checking out the house as he went deeper. He knew Daryl and Ron were right behind him. The house opened up right into the living room. There was a hallway to his right and he headed down it, gun held up. There were two doors at the end, one already open. He heard Daryl give a low whistle, signaling that what he searched was clear. He chuckled softly when he heard Ron try to imitate the whistle. Daryl and Carl had tried to teach him what each whistle meant, but he could never get them down right. Carl just thought he was bad at whistling. He whistled the low tune like Daryl and smiled knowing that Ron was probably glaring to himself right now.

Carl pressed his back to the wall before whipping around the corner and into the open room. Inside was just a standard room that must’ve been an office previously. Searching quickly, he came up with nothing of importance, so he headed to the closed door. Knocking on it, he waited and listened. Satisfied that there was no sound, he opened the door. It was small, standard bathroom. He opened the cabinet above the sink, searching for any type of ibuprofen or prescribed drugs. He looked under the sink as well. He chuckled to himself when he saw a tube of toothpaste and grabbed it. Michonne had been stealing his lately and complaining to his dad about getting more. She was seriously obsessed with brushing her teeth. Carl couldn’t blame her though, he liked having clean teeth as well. He stuffed the toothpaste into his backpack before heading back out to the living room.

As he was walking down the hall, he saw picture frames hanging on the walls. One, though, made him stop. A man and a woman stood, their arms wrapped around a little girl, she looked about eight years old, with their house in the background and huge smiles on their faces. Everything was normal about the picture, except the huge, yellow words covering the picture.

 **COLLECTED**.

Carl took the frame off the wall and continued to the living room. The living room and the kitchen were conjoined, only separated by an island. Daryl was stuffing cans of food into his backpack on the island. Carl approached him, handing the older man the framed picture. Daryl looked at it before setting it down, “I don’t know what they’re collecting, but it sure as hell isn’t food.”

“Hey,” Carl turned to see Ron walking down the stairs and smiled at him.

“Find anything?” He inquired. Ron shook his head sadly.

“We should search some more houses, head further in town, see if there’s a drug store or somethin’.” Daryl proposed. The two agreed with him and headed out.

They didn’t end up finding a drug store in the town, but did find more food in some of the houses. Yet, haunting them through their trip were the constant yellow words.

“This is starting to get seriously creepy,” Ron cringed, glaring at another car with the words **NO COLLECTION**. The three of them were heading out of the town, towards the next town that Rick had pointed out, only twenty minutes from the first one.

Carl was on edge, his body tense. The words kept popping up everywhere, thankfully more **NO COLLECTION** ’s than **COLLECTED** ’s. The words stopped showing up as soon as they were back on the road. He believed that it was another group out there, pretty efficient and large in size if they were capable of covering an entire town.

Carl’s anxieties grew even more once they entered the next town.

The town was covered in the words. Still, more **NO COLLECTION** ’s than **COLLECTED** ’s. Carl supposed that was a good thing, sort of.

“Damn assholes,” Daryl snarled, “they’re everywhere.”

“Let’s just fill up our backpacks and go, we need to tell Rick.” Ron mumbled, looking out his window at the houses fearfully.

Daryl parked the car once again in a suburban neighborhood. The three of them repeated their raid in the previous town, stepping carefully and looking over everything twice. This time, though, it seemed as though the previous group had raided every single house as well. Each of them came up empty handed with each house. After going through ten houses, they decided to call it a day and head back to Alexandria.

Once Daryl started the car and heading into the direction of home, Carl felt fear claw at his chest. He hadn’t gotten so used to the protection of Alexandria’s walls that he forgot how much danger there truly was outside of the walls. Not just Walkers, but people as well. He hoped that his family wouldn’t have to fight for their safety once again. Carl knew that Alexandria wouldn’t be sheltered for long, but he thought that taking care of the Wolves and dealing with the herd would’ve been the end of it. At least, that’s what he hoped.

Carl looked over the seat to Ron. The eighteen year old was picking at his sleeves distractedly. He felt his chest grow warm again watching him. He wouldn’t let anything bad happen to Ron again, just like how he promised himself that night, he would protect Ron. He would fight for him, fight for his happiness. Carl knew that he should tell Ron how he felt, just get it off his chest. Not with Daryl around though, Carl thought, just not yet. He knew he was procrastinating, but he couldn’t help himself. What if Ron didn’t feel the same way? What if he wanted to stay just friends? Carl blushed harshly when he realized that Ron had looked up and saw him staring at him. He flew back in his seat and took off his hat, adjusting his hair and acting like he didn’t just get caught staring at Ron. Great job Carl, he thought, now he thinks you’re weird. He noticed Daryl side-eying him curiously and rolled his eyes, huffing at Daryl as he leaned against the car window, staring out at the trees like they were the most interesting things in the world and ignoring the feeling of just wanting the world to swallow him whole at the moment.

The rest of the drive to Alexandria wasn’t awkward, totally not awkward, especially not for Carl, who was definitely not the only person making things awkward. Watching Eugene open the gate for them to come in was a reality check for Carl. He and Ron stepped out of the car while Daryl went to park it with the others. He waved at Tara, who was up at the guard post and greeted Eugene.

“Greetings, Mr. Grimes.”

Carl raised an eyebrow at him, having never heard someone call him Mr. Grimes. His mood grew grim when he spotted his dad walking towards them. Daryl joined them once again when Rick got to them.

“Anything good?”

Daryl shook his head, wiping his mouth, “Somethin’s up, man. Both of the towns are covered in these damn words, spray painted like some kids got hold of it.”

Rick leaned in more, one hand on his cold python and the other on his hip, “What words?”

“’Collected’ and ‘No Collection’,” Carl told him, “It was like people went through the entire town, just looking for things and spray painting the words when they found something or when they didn’t find something.”

“Like what?”

Daryl shrugged, hiking up his backpack, “Don’t know, but we found some food in the first town. They must’ve been lookin’ for something else.”

Rick nodded, “Alright, take what you’ve got to Olivia and then come home, we’ll talk more about this later.”

The group nodded and did as Rick told them to.

The three of them had found enough food to last a couple more weeks, added to what Alexandria already had, it would last another three months. Yet, they knew they would have to go on another run soon just to keep Alexandria running. Daryl had headed home once Olivia had emptied out his backpack, but Carl stayed with Ron until she was done.

“Alright guys, you can go,” Olivia shooed them away, “Thank you for all that you’ve done!” She shouted after them as they left the storage room.

The two waved to her and continued down the street. They chatted minimally, tired from their run. Carl stopped once they reached Aaron and Eric’s house.

Ron gave him a cheeky smile, “Thanks for walking with me.”

“Yeah, no problem.” Carl’s hands itched to, just wanting to grab Ron’s face and kiss him. He was so beautiful when he smiled, especially in the evening light.

“Tell me what your dad says, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”  Ron gripped his arm gently before turning and heading into his house.

Carl let out a breath that he didn’t know he had been holding in and headed off to his own home, ready to go to sleep. When he walked into his house, just a couple houses down from Aaron and Eric’s, he saw his family sitting at the table with his dad at the head.

Rick nodded to him and addressed the group, “When Daryl, Carl, and Ron went on their run, they ran into somethin’. They think it’s a group, maybe just like ours. They spray paint the words ‘Collected’ and ‘No Collection’ onto things. Cars, house, trees, you name it.”

“What are they collecting?” Michonne asked.

“We’re not sure, could be anything. Books, stuff, people.”

“People?” Maggie’s eyes widened, her mouth set in a tight frown. Glenn placed his hand on top of hers in comfort.

“Could be. We need to prepare ourselves,” Rick started hitting the table with his finger as he talked, “We need to put up more guards, have extra eyes out just in case. We’re not losing this place.” He stared each member of his family in the eye, “We’re _not_ losing this place.”

Everyone voiced their agreement.

“Alright,” Rick stood up, Michonne following him, “I’ll make a meeting about it in the morning so that everyone else will know.” With that, their meeting was adjourned and everyone went to their respected rooms.

Carl sighed gratefully as soon as his head hit his pillow. He kicked off his shoes and jeans, curling up underneath his comforting and falling asleep easily.

 

He couldn’t see anything, all that surrounded him was darkness as he tried to navigate his way through the long hallways. He could hear the growling of walkers, could smell the rotting flesh and hear the patter of water under his feet. Was it water? Was it blood? Carl didn’t want to think about it; he just wanted to get out of this place. He kept a hand against the walls of the hallway, or what he thought was a hallway. The cement walls reminded him of the prison.

He held in his breath when he heard the sound of a gunshot and kept his back to the wall, keeping his gun raised. The sound of the walker’s growls had stopped, which must’ve been what was shot. Carl squinted his eyes, trying to see through the darkness.

“Carl!” A voice hissed out.

Carl jerked back, recognizing the voice, “Ron?”

“Carl!” He heard footsteps approaching him.

“What’s happening? What’s going on?” He felt him grab onto his hand.

“Hey, hey, everything’s going to be okay.” Ron tugged on his hand, “Follow me.”

Carl nodded even though he knew Ron wouldn’t be able to see him. He let Ron drag him through the darkness, but it seemed as though Ron knew where he was going, “Ron, what’s going on?”

“Shhh, we’re almost there.”

“Where are we going?”

“Home.”

The sound of a door creaking startled him. He became blinded by the light that burst through the entrance and covered his eyes. He felt Ron pull him out the door as he rubbed at his eyes furiously. He felt Ron release his wrist and tried opening his eyes to see where they were. It took a minute for his eyes to adjust to the light, but in the end, he really wish they hadn’t.

The first thing he saw was Tara’s face, mouth open and eyes a ghostly blue. It was as if she kept staring at him, even though she was dead. His breathe caught in his throat and he couldn’t look at her anymore, turning away. That’s when he saw it, the rest of them. His family. The people from Alexandria. All of them surrounded him, their bodies littering the ground, eyes open and ghostly; staring into the open sky. His eyes burned from the tears that fell down his face at seeing his family. He couldn’t help the full frontal sob when he spotted his father and Judith. Rick had his arms wrapped around his baby sister, her head down and shoved into his chest, while he was staring into the sky. Unlike the others, his arms were covered in blood, as well as his face and his gun laid next to him, broken to pieces. His dad didn’t go down without a fight.

His breath started to quicken. How did this happen? He just saw all of them a couple hours ago. This couldn’t have happened, it couldn’t. He had to know. Why did Ron bring him here? This was _not_ his home. Carl turned around abruptly, ready to unleash his rage and anguish on Ron for doing this to him.

“R-”

“I’m sorry, Carl. . . .”

Carl gaped at him. The area around Ron’s eyes were an angry red and starting to peel, but what was worse was the fact that Ron didn’t _have_ eyes. It was as if someone had took a knife and cut out Ron’s eyes and burned over them. And above him, on the building where they had come from, was a large, yellow word.

**COLLECTED**

“No.”

“Carl-”

“No! No, no, no! This isn’t real! This can’t be real!”

Carl jolted upright from his bed, a cold sweat covering his body. He couldn’t breathe, he needed to get out. He jumped out of his bed and put on his jeans from yesterday. He slipped on his boots, not bothering to tie them before going downstairs and out of his house. He stopped as soon as he was out in the street, breathing the night air in deeply. He took a couple minutes to process that what he had seen wasn’t real. All of it had been a nightmare. That he was safe and inside the walls, that all of his family was safe and sleeping.

He kneeled and tied his boots, deciding to head down to the quarry and sit by the water to calm himself. He knew he couldn’t go back to sleep, the images still flashing in his brain. The walk down there was quiet, no one up yet even though the sky was starting to turn pink. The early morning watchers should be up soon to take their shift. Carl sat down at the top of the hill, right before it dipped in towards the water. He leaned back against his hands and soaked in the silence.

The sound of soft steps on the grass interrupted it though. Carl looked behind him to see Ron approaching him. He quickly looked away, the image of him from his nightmare still fresh in his mind.

“Hey,” Ron placed himself next to Carl, their thighs nearly touching.

“Hey,” Carl spoke softly, his voice rough from sleep.

“What are you doing up so early?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” Ron scoffed at him and a silence fell between them. Ron cleared his throat, about to try and break the awkwardness, but Carl beat him to it, “I had a nightmare.”

He expected Ron to make fun of him, laugh at him and call him a kid for having a nightmare at his age, “Me too.”

Shocked, Carl looked at him, facing his fear of seeing Ron like he did in his dream. He let out a sigh of relief when he saw that he was still Ron, intact and everything. His eyes were downcast and dark underneath, like he hadn’t slept at all. Carl realized that he probably looked the same as him, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

Carl nodded and a silence fell over them again.

“Do _you_ want to talk about it?”

Carl shook his head, “Not really.”

This time the silence wasn’t awkward or tense, but settled. Calm. The two sat there in each other’s company, soaking up the comfort of just having another person next to them.

“Thank you,” Carl murmured.

Ron nudged their shoulders together, but didn’t move back to where he sat, just let their bodies touch from shoulder to thigh as they watched the sun rise on the water together and saw another day start.


	2. Part II

**Oats In The Water**

**Part II**

"It’s so easy to do the wrong thing in this world. So, so, if it feels wrong don’t do it, alright? If it feels easy don’t do it, don’t let this world spoil you.”

– Lori Grimes

 

It had been two weeks since Ron, Carl, and Daryl had gotten back from their run. A week of seeing his dad pace around the house when no one was home while Michonne gave him advice to try and calm him down. A week of Carl sitting out on the porch with Judith, coloring pictures with her to get her mind off of how much their dad was stressing. Their food supply was running low, lower than they expected. Rick was trying to ration it as much as he could, but it was causing trouble within the remaining Alexandrian’s who were not used to eating less food. Carl and his family understood what it meant to go hungry, what it was like to not have any food for days.

“We need to do something.” Michonne sternly said to his father one early morning. Carl was sitting on the couch, watching the two and agreeing with Michonne. He chose not to say anything though.

“They’re out there. We can’t go out too far.” His dad replied to her, conflict showing in his voice. He ran a hand down his face, looking out the window in thought.  
“Rick,” the harsh tone in Michonne’s voice made his dad cringe, “they have always been out there. We have been out there. We need more supplies, Glenn and Maggie’s crops haven’t started growing yet and we can’t wait for them. These people, our people, can’t keep going on like this or else it’s just going to get worse. We need to do something.”

The leader of Alexandria looked at his son, searching his face for some sort of answer. Carl nodded at him, “She’s right, dad. We can think of something.”

Rick rubbed his forehead, “Yeah, yeah you’re right. I’ll talk to Daryl, see what we can do. Carl, go get Ron. The more people on the run, the better.”

Carl stood up and headed out of the house. He titled his head up and basked in the warm sunlight before stepping down the stairs and down the street towards Aaron and Eric’s house. Carl was excited to head out on a run, it felt as though he had been cooped up inside his house for two weeks. He was excited to see Ron, as he hadn’t been able to see him lately, just stolen glances and smiles. Rick had made Carl join the others on keeping watch on the walls, so he was on a constant, rotating shift and whenever he did have free time, it was spent sleeping or with Judith. Carl smiled to himself when he remembered the night when Ron had climbed up the guard post and kept Carl company for a few hours, ranting about the dirt underneath his nails from gardening with Glenn and Maggie and how their love was so sickeningly sweet that he was going to get cavities from just being around them. Carl laughed through the whole thing, knowing how it was like to be around the two. He missed Ron, missed hanging out with him, going on walks, talking to him, and pulling pranks on the people of Alexandria. He missed Ron in general. He missed hearing his laugh, seeing his awkward smiles, the way his eyes would light up every time he talked about music and bands.

The seventeen year old stopped in front of the door and knocked politely, studying their house while he waited. Carl waved at Aaron as he opened up the door.

“Oh hey Carl, what can I do for you?”

“Hey, um, is Ron home? Rick’s planning a run and wanted him to be there.”

Aaron chuckled to himself, stepping aside to let Carl into the house, “Well, if you can wake him up! Eric’s been trying all morning and nothing seems to be working.”

Carl laughed, “Seriously?” He shook his head in disbelief as he headed up the stairs towards Ron’s room. He smirked as he slammed open Ron’s bedroom door and heard the older teen groan in frustration, muffled by his head being smashed into his pillow and his comforter swallowing him up.

“Ericcc, for the last time, it’s my day off today. Just leave me to sleep in peace!”

“Not today!” Carl exclaimed, laughter bubbling up in his chest.

Ron sat straight up, half of his hair flat against his face while the other stuck up in all directions and no shirt on, “Carl?” Carl swallowed harshly, heat rising in his cheeks at the sight of Ron shirtless. Carl wanted nothing better to do then to curl up under the blanket with him and run his hands all over his skin. Through the year, Ron had changed physically. Ever since Ron had been going on runs with him and Daryl, he had grew fit. His shoulders were broader, his arms had grew some muscle, his stomach became firmer, and his jaw line became more pronounced. Sometimes he would forget to shave and he would grow stubble and it drove Carl crazy wondering what it would feel like to kiss him with his stubble.

He bit his lip to try and control himself from jumping into Ron’s bed right there and then, “Get up! My dad is planning a run and he wants you to be there.”

Ron’s interest was piqued, “A run?” He threw the blankets off of himself and stood up.

Carl subtly looked at the Pink Floyd poster Ron had on his wall to avoid looking at him, “Yeah, we’re running low on food. He’s talking to Daryl to figure out where we should go.”

“Yeah, I heard Aaron telling Eric that we were running low last night.” Carl turned to Ron, who was rummaging through his closet. Ron thankfully had put some jeans on, but he internally groaned at the sight of his back. Carl could see his muscles move as Ron sorted through his clothes. He could taste the blood from biting his lip too hard as he admired the way his body became slimmer as he moved down to his waist. Carl turned around, his face on fire. He knew he shouldn’t be doing this, he still didn’t know if Ron felt the same way as he did. He would think he was weird if he knew Carl was staring at him like that, what thoughts he was having about him. Sometimes Carl thought that Ron reciprocated his feelings, like whenever Ron would stare into his eyes for too long or would stand too close to him, or whenever he would grab his wrist and not let go and when he would truly listen to Carl and remember things about him that everyone else would skip over; like his shoes for his birthday, how he didn’t like oranges, and the reason why Carl walked around the perimeter of Alexandria at least once a day. The little things that no one else was interested in, except him.

“You ready to go?” Carl glanced behind him at Ron.

“Yeah, just gotta,” he gestured vaguely at his hair and chuckled to himself, the rough sound of his sleep tired voice sending chills down Carl’s spine. Ron walked out of the room and into the bathroom down the hallway. Now that he was alone, he sighed deeply and ran a hand over his face.

“You know,” Carl’s hand flew to his gun that was strapped to his hand and whipped around to see Aaron leaning against the doorframe of Ron’s bedroom. The man put up his hands to show that he wasn’t a threat and Carl let go of his gun, shrugging off his adrenaline, “you should probably tell him.”

Carl’s stomach clenched in anxiety, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He stepped past Aaron and headed downstairs, only to be followed by the older man.

“I’m not an idiot, Carl, and neither is Ron.” Carl turned to him, looking into his eyes, “I want Ron to be happy, Carl, I care about him. And I care about you, too.” His blue eyes widened in shock, he didn’t realize that Aaron would consider Rick’s group his family, but after everything they’ve been through he understood. Aaron cared about everyone in Alexandria, no matter what, “I don’t think you realize how much you mean to him, Carl.”

“We’re friends, of course I mean something to him.”

“You know it’s more than that.” Aaron crossed his arms, “On both sides.” Carl looked away, rubbing the back of his neck and clearing his throat, “You should see the way he looks at you, it’s like you’ve hung the moon or something. And when he talks about you. I bet if he had a choice, he would tell the whole world how great you are.”

Carl hears burned with heat, but he couldn’t help the smile that grew on his face, “Y-yeah.” He cleared his throat, “Maybe it is time to tell him.”

“Tell who what?” Ron thundered down the stairs, dressed in some jeans and a white shirt with a faded blue flannel.

“For you to hurry the hell up. Come on, let’s go!” Carl covered up quickly and started walking to the door, Ron in tow. He waved to Aaron, “Bye, and thank you!”

“Bye guys!”

As they were walking towards Carl’s house, he noticed that more of his family were sitting on the porch. Glenn and Maggie were playing with Judith, smiling and laughing as she was waving around her arms and shouting excitedly, probably telling them a story. Eugene was talking with Tara and Rosita. Carl was guessing he was going on one of his rants again because both of them looked thoroughly confused as to what he was going on about. Sasha and Abraham were standing next to the door, conversing with each other. Carol was nowhere in sight, but she was most likely on guard duty. Morgan wasn’t around either, yet Carl knew that he must be doing his exercises somewhere. Everyone waved at him and Ron as they entered their vicinity.

“Hey!” Carl smiled at them all as Ron waved at them as well, saying his greeting quietly. Glenn patted him on his back and gave him a huge grin. He knew that Ron got along better with the couple more than he did with the others. Maggie stopped Ron and started talking about how the crops were doing and how the just found some strawberries growing. Carl swooped in and snuck his hand into Ron’s, catching him mid-sentence. Everything happened in a couple seconds. He could feel everyone’s eyes on him. Glenn raised his eyebrows at their hands and Maggie’s face exploded in glee.

Ignoring the fluttering in his chest, “Sorry Maggie, my dad wants to talk to us.” He pulled Ron into the house, ignoring everyone ogling at them.

“Well, if that isn’t some sugar in my honey.” Abraham commented as they walked past him. Carl’s brow crinkled in confusion, not understanding what Abraham meant and put it to the side, deciding to not even think about it later. He found his dad, Daryl, and Michonne in the living room going over a map of the area. He squeezed Ron hand before letting go of him and standing over the map. He didn’t look at Ron to see his reaction, choosing to focus more on what his dad was talking about.

“Carl, Ron.” His dad acknowledged them, “Last time, the three of you went forty miles out on your run. Daryl, Michonne, and I decided that the three of you are going to be out there for a week. Seven days, no more or else we’re going out to look for you. But this time you’re only going out on a twenty mile perimeter around Alexandria. Sasha, Abraham, and Tara are going to go out on a forty mile half-perimeter run, I gave them two weeks to be back. Your main priority is food. Just food, got it?” The three of them gave him confirmation. “Go pack up and grab some gear. You head out in one hour.”

Carl turned to go up the stairs, watching Ron and Daryl walk out of the house, and halted at the sound of his dad’s voice, “Carl wait, I need to talk to you.” He looked at his dad, confusion spread across his expression. His dad motioned for him to sit down next to him on the couch.

“Yeah dad?”

His dad held his gaze, staring into his eyes intensely, “I want you to listen to me very carefully. You are not safe. I’ve told you this before, in the church, but I want you to remember. No matter how safe it feels or how comfortable you get, always remember that you are not safe. Nowhere is safe. This place, this is home. This is where our family is. Anything could happen, but I’m not gonna let it. You come home, okay? I don’t care how or when, but I want you to come back to me. To Judith. To our family. You understand that?”

“I understand, dad.” Carl tried to communicate how much he understood through his eyes, trying to show how much appreciation he had for his father and what he did for him.

“Good, now go get ready.” Rick stood up and walked out the door, most likely to talk to Abraham, Sasha, and Tara.

Carl grabbed his empty backpack from his room, checked to make sure that his Beretta was fully loaded and that he had an extra magazine with him. He made sure that he still had his knife attached to his belt before leaving the house and off to the armory.

Daryl had gotten one of the larger cars, the only SUV that they had. Abraham’s group got the truck. Ron was leaning against the SUV casually, watching Abraham’s group pack up their truck. Carl perked up when he saw Daryl offer the teen a cigarette, wondering if he was going to take it. Ron shook his head, pushing it back to Daryl.

“Your loss.” Daryl shrugged and hopped into the driver’s seat. Carl snorted at Daryl’s comment, causing Ron to look in his direction.

A dopey smile appeared on Ron’s face, “Hey.”

His smile was contagious, “Hey.”

“C’mon, let’s go!” Daryl shouted to them. Carl walked around the front and hopped into the passenger’s seat, Ron taking up the backseat, “Do you got the map?” Daryl questioned, looking at Ron through the rearview mirror.

“Yeah, right here.”

“Alright, let’s get going.” Daryl started up the car and honked his horn to signal Abraham’s group that they were ready. When Abraham honked back, Eugene opened up the gate and the two groups exited Alexandria. Carl watched in the side mirror as Alexandria grew smaller and smaller. He was going to miss it, but it was nice to be outside the walls for a while. Once their group was twenty miles out, Daryl turned onto a different road, honking at Abraham to let him know they were leaving them. Abraham honked back and Carl watched as they drove away, where Carl, Ron, and Daryl had headed on their last run.

A couple miles down the road, Daryl started slowing down as they entered into the first town of their week long run. He stopped the car on the side of the road.  
“We’ll clear out this house right here, go search the town, then meet back here for the night.” Daryl stated as he stepped out of the car, checking for any walkers. Ron and Carl followed his actions, checking out the neighborhood. When the coast was clear, the three of them headed to the house and made sure there was no Walkers inside. It was a one story house with only two bedrooms, nothing too challenging.

“We’ll meet back here in five hours. Don’t get killed.” Daryl exited the house to start his search for supplies.  
Ron bumped their shoulders together, “Guess it’s just you and me again.”

Carl snickered, “It’s always us.” Carl turned to walk out of the house, Ron strolling after him.

“Do you ever wondered why Daryl always goes off on his own? What does he do by himself?”

Carl shrugged, walking to the house that was across the street, “I don’t know, he’s always been like that.”

Ron huffed, “Oh well, I’m just glad I get stuck with you.”

Carl looked at him from under his hat, “Oh really?”

“Oh yeah,” Ron’s lips turned up on one end, “I only keep you around for certain reasons.”

“Is that so?” Carl tilted his head to the side, giving Ron a look of pure sass.

“Mhmm, all sorts of reasons, I don’t think you’d want to know.” Ron copied Carl’s stance, silently challenging him.

The younger teen rolled his eyes at him, knocking on the door for walkers. He gave it a minute before he opened the door and walked in, his gun up and ready. It was a two story house. The front door opened up to the living room and next to the doorway was a door to the kitchen. On the other side of the room was a staircase leading to the upstairs.. The house was trashed, the couch was flipped over, the TV was shattered, and there was trash everywhere. The eeriness of the destroyed living room gave Carl goosebumps, trying not to think too hard about what must have happened before. He headed into the kitchen while he watched Ron go up the stairs. The kitchen was a mess as well, all of the cupboards were open and bare, and the fridge had been ripped from the wall and thrown onto the ground. Half of the kitchen was burned and charred from, what must’ve been, the stove. Carl sighed in disappointment, knowing that there was nothing to find in the kitchen at all since it looked as though it had been previously raided.

He turned to go find Ron when he heard it. The soft, sweet melody of a piano. Carl gripped his gun tighter, following the sound. He recognized the song, having heard it before the world had turned to shit. He lowered his gun when he found where it was coming from and couldn’t help the shock that went through his system. 

Sitting on the stool of a beautiful, black, grand piano was Ron. His long fingers danced across the ivory keys, his expression in total concentration as he stared at the sheet music in front of him.

Carl realized in that moment how much a mystery Ron still was to him. He never knew that Ron could play any sort of musical instrument and a piano is something he least expected. Carl’s eyes softened while he watched him play, so absorbed into the piano. The younger teen cautiously approached the bench and sat next to him slowly, trying his hardest to not scare Ron and make him stop playing. Ron glanced at Carl, his lips twitching softly at the sight of him and his hazel eyes glowed with joy. His stomach grew tight and his heart beat faster at his actions. Carl looked at the sheet music to see what the song was called. It was Clair de Lune by Debussy. He remembered his mom playing it sometimes when she would clean the house or when she would be reading a book. A sense of sadness went through him at the memory of his mother, but he decided to enjoy the moment with Ron rather than think of what life used to be. He closed his eyes, focusing on the sound of Ron playing.

The soft tune of the song calmed Carl, his mind becoming so clear that he didn’t notice when Ron had stopped playing. His eyes snapped open when he felt Ron’s hand grab his. Hazel and blue mixed as they gazed at each other. Ron’s eyes moved away from his and started flickering across his face, as if studying him. He raised his other hand and gently pushed away some hair that had fallen in Carl’s face. His breath hitched, realizing how close they were. He knew that this would be the perfect moment, that Carl should tell Ron now and end the tension between them for the rest of the run. He summed up the courage, ready to tell Ron how he felt and- _bang!_

The two of them jumped apart, standing straight up, tipping the bench over as they did. Carl whipped out his Beretta, aiming at the door, only to realize that the sound came from downstairs. The sound snapping and hissing of a walker came next. It must have heard the sound of the piano and was now trying to get in.

“You have to be fucking kidding me.” Ron growled, a red flush covering his entire face.

Carl huffed, knowing his cheeks were red as well, and skirted past Ron towards downstairs.

He unlatched his knife from his belt and ripped open the door. The walker came storming towards him, but Carl kicked it down before shoving his knife into its head. He wiped off the blood on the ruined fabric of the upside down couch before meeting Ron’s eyes, who was standing behind him, “C’mon, let’s get out of here.”  
Carl walked out the door, stepping over the dead body of the walker, observing the neighborhood for the next house that they should check.

“All of these houses look trashed.”

“Yeah,” Carl agreed, “let’s head deeper into town.”

The two of them started down the street, memorizing the street names so that they could find their way back.  
“I didn’t know that you liked classical music,” Ron started up, one hand holding onto his knife and the other in his pocket.

“I didn’t know you could play the piano,” Carl murmured back, cautious of any walkers hearing them.

“My mom actually taught me,” Ron scratched at his face, his skin must have been irritated from him shaving it this morning, “she loved art and music, it was kind of her thing.” He shrugged, acting nonchalant as he spoke of his deceased mother, but Carl knew that each word was hard for him to get out, “She taught me how to play the guitar too, and the flute, and the drums.”

Carl’s eyes widened, amazed that Ron could play musical instruments and he never knew, “I didn’t know you could play. I didn’t see any instruments in your house.”

Ron nodded, face becoming somber, “Yeah, my-uh-my dad, when he was drunk one night, kind of tore them apart.” He cleared his throat, shaking his head and chuckling lightly, “He really was an asshole.”

Carl’s body shook with laughter, remembering that event between them, “I’m sorry about that man, but you really needed to know the truth.”

Ron grinned at him, “I know, I know. Look, a convenience store.” He pointed towards a small, white building with dirty, smudged windows with the bright read words ‘Stop and Shop!’ above it.

“Nice,” Carl smiled at him before walking towards the building. He knocked twice, waiting for walkers to appear. Two came slamming against the glass, their hair nearly all the way gone and their skin a disgusting gray color. The dirty hands and teeth gnashed against the glass, trying to claw their way towards their only source of food. Ron set the crowbar in place to open the door while Carl stood back with his knife.

“Ready?”

“Go for it.”

Ron popped open the door and flew to the side as the walkers stumbled their way towards Carl. The younger teen held the first one at its throat, cringing at the feel of its dry skin before jamming the knife into its head. He saw that Ron had taken down the second one as it was already laying haphazardly on the ground. The two of them strode into the store, Ron closing the door behind them. They split up, Carl claiming the right side where the shelves were and Ron took up the left side where the counter was. Carl pushed aside empty boxes and useless knick-knacks, searching for the slightest hint of food, maybe even a candy bar so that he could shove it in Michonne’s face as soon as he got back. He heard the whistling and rattling of a display case moving from Ron’s side of the room and looked across the store to see what he was doing. Ron’s hands gripped one of the cheap key chains from the display case, a sad expression on his face.

“Do you ever think about what the world would be like if this never happened?” The older teen spoke darkly, his voice a guttural tone.

Carl sighed to himself, “Yeah. . . .” He pictured his mother, happy and alive, playing with Judith in the living room of their old house while his dad smiled at the door, heading out to work in his sheriff uniform.

“I miss my brother.” Ron spoke softly, rubbing his thumb over the key chain.

“I miss my mom.” The older teen’s head snapped up to look at him, his hazel eyes watery. Carl gave him a grim smile.

“Me too.”

A pause grew between them before Carl swung around, carelessly looking through the shelves, “I miss candy.”

“I miss soda.”

“I miss gum.”

“I miss TV.”

“I miss movies.”

“I miss phones.”

“I miss music.”

He heard Ron scoff, “Someone’s bound to have something in Alexandria.”

Carl snorted, “Had, yeah right. I’ve looked everywhere!” He emphasized the word by throwing his arms up and turning to his friend in disbelief.

“Not everywhere.” Ron leered at him, a mischievous expression on his face.

“You asshole!” Carl rushed toward him, light-heartedly pushing him away, “You’ve been holding out on me!”

“Maybe. . . .” Ron bit his lip, trying to control himself, but the pinched and hurt expression on Carl’s face was too much for him and he busted into a full body laugh, clutching his stomach in pain.

Carl rolled his eyes so hard that he swore if he went further he would see the back of his head. He shoved Ron once again and rushed out of the store, knowing there was nothing useful in there.

“Carl, hey!” Another pile of laughing, “Hold up! Wait for me!” He slowed down his pace, crossing his arms defensively. “Hey, I’m sorry!” Ron caught up with him, grabbing onto his arm, “I’ll show you some music when we get back, okay?”

Carl physically turned his body away from him and started walking down the sidewalk, head tilted down so that his hat covered his face. He wasn’t upset at his friend anymore, he just wanted to mess with him.

“Hey, Carl, don’t be like that.” He heard the near whimper in Ron’s voice, “I said I was sorry. Please forgive me.” He pleaded desperately, “Carl. Carl, come one, man.” Ron grabbed at his arm again and Carl flung himself away from him, giving Ron a cheeky smile and letting out a spiel of laughter before booking it down the sidewalk.

“Oh, you little shit!”

Carl’s feet slammed against the concrete as he ran. His cheeks hurt with how much he was smiling, happiness bubbling in his chest. Adrenaline pumped through his blood as he and Ron raced through the town. Carl turned sharply on one corner and nearly tripped trying to stop himself. There was a huge group of walkers around the bend of the corner, at least twenty of them all huddled together. Luckily, they were all turned away from him and didn’t hear him enter their vicinity. Carl swung his body around to face Ron, just in time to stop him from going any further. He smashed his hand against Ron’s mouth and pulled him into the nearest alleyway and behind the side of a dumpster. The sound of Ron running must have attracted the walkers because all of a sudden all Carl could hear were the moans and the shuffling of the walking dead. He put a finger to his lips, eyeing the small herd walking by. His sweaty hair stuck the back of his neck.

The feeling of Ron grabbing onto his wrist made Carl turn to look at him. He pulled his hand away from his mouth slowly. Carl was nearly on top of him, Ron’s legs bent at the knee, cradling him into his lap, while Carl had one foot on the outside of Ron’s hip and the other underneath the bend of his knee. Their faces were incredibly close and they were both breathing heavily, their breath intermingling with each other. Carl knew that he shouldn’t be thinking about kissing Ron right now, that he should be focused on the herd of walkers that were stalking past the alleyway entrance and how they could be in danger at any moment, but he couldn’t help himself. Ron’s lips looked so soft and they were so close that if Carl were just to move down a little then their lips would be touching. He licked his lips at the thought, not taking his eyes off of Ron’s pink lips. He jolted when he felt Ron’s hand on his hip, glancing up into his hazel eyes.

Ron put a finger to his lips for him to be quiet before slightly looking over the side of the dumpster. At least one of them was thinking about their safety, “We should get back to Daryl.”

Carl nodded, not being able to speak with how dry his throat was. Getting back to the base house was a difficult task as it seemed as though more walkers were in the town by every minute. Once they arrived, they noticed Daryl was already waiting for them by the SUV.  
“C’mon,” Daryl gestured at them and hopped into the front seat, “this place is crawlin’ with walkers.”

Daryl deemed it unsafe to stay in the town for that night and headed out in the direction of the next town they were supposed to scavenge. When the sun was beginning to set, Daryl parked the SUV in a ditch on the side of the road.

“We’ll sleep in here tonight.”

Carl shivered unconsciously, remembering the last time he slept in a car on the side of the road, but he trusted Daryl to know what he was doing. The three of them spread out some blankets to cover the windows and folded down the back seats. They ate a cold dinner of nutrient bars and applesauce before awkwardly huddling together in the cramped SUV for the night.


	3. Part III

**Oats In The Water**

**Part III**

“Everybody can't be bad.”

– Carl Grimes

The sounds of the tires rolling against the asphalt road echoed throughout the SUV. Straight ahead of them was a constant straight road, going on for miles. Carl slumped in his seat, mindlessly picking off dirt and grime from his hat. The three of them had been on the road for nearly an entire day, making their second day an absolute waste. The small town they had planned to scavenge had been burned to the ground, leaving them to just continue on to the next town. They were nearly out of gas and tired, having spent the previous night crammed in the back of the SUV with all of their supplies. Carl huffed out a long, drawn out sigh when he thought about it. No offense to Daryl, but the older man needed to take a shower sometime. Carl had spent nearly the whole night scrunching up his nose and shoving his face into his jacket. Ron was lucky because he was on the other side of Carl, whereas Carl, being the smallest out of them all, was forced to be crushed between them. Eventually he had turned towards Ron, accepting his fate, and placed his head under Ron’s, hoping to hide from Daryl’s stench. Ron smelled surprisingly decent, thankfully.

Carl glanced in the backseat. Ron’s head was pressed against the window, fast asleep. Carl didn’t envy him, knowing that when he woke up his neck and shoulders were going to ache badly from the awkward position.

Daryl’s voice jolted him from his thoughts, Carl feeling immediately guilty and wondered if Daryl was some sort of mind reader until he realized that Daryl wasn’t talking about last night, “You wanna learn some things, kid?”

He wondered when Daryl was going to stop calling him a kid. Probably never. He shrugged at the older man, “Sure.”

Daryl slows down the car and pulls it to the side of the road, practically all of it on the grass next to it. Ron sat straight up, eyes wide, “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” Carl shrugged, putting his hat back on his head and copied Daryl, who was getting out of the car. He heard Ron scoff in indignation before slamming the door shut. Carl walked to the back of the vehicle to see Daryl opening the trunk and grabbing an empty backpack. He started shoving empty water gallons into it, motioning for Carl to do the same. He went to reach for his own backpack, but he immediately stiffened when he felt someone pressing against his back. The younger teen relaxed when he realized that it was Ron. The older teen’s chest was pressed against his back, his body warm from sleep. Ron reached above him and grabbed onto his own backpack before backing away, expression set in confusion. Carl already missed the feeling of Ron against him. He bit his lip, internally scolding himself. He proceeded to put more empty gallons in his backpack.

“Okay, what are we doing?” Ron huffed out, eyeing Daryl pointedly.

“There’s a river ‘round here.” Daryl murmured, sauntering off into the woods. Carl stumbled after him, Ron following him closely.

“How do you know?” Ron yawned out.

Daryl didn’t bother looking at him, stepping carefully through the underbrush, “When you’re out on your own, you learn some things. Learn things quick, you won’t end up dead.”

Carl watched Ron’s expression pinch in hurt, so he reached out and gripped Ron’s wrist tightly once for comfort before letting go. He kept next to Ron’s side as Daryl started explaining to them.

“We’re lookin’ for a river. First thing, when you’re out here, you stop and be real quiet,” Daryl stopped and held up his hand for them to stop as well, “then you gotta listen for it. Try to hear the sound of the water.” Carl strained his hears to hear the sound of a river, but didn’t come up with anything.

“If you don’t hear nothin’, you keep going, try lookin’ for tracks and downhill slopes. That’ll lead ‘ya to it.” Daryl strode further into the forest, gesturing to the ground and some plants that looked trampled on. He continued on though, still explaining to them. “Now if you’re real desperate, you find some wet ground, try diggin’ into it and see if any water comes up.”

“How did you learn all of this?” Ron asked curiously, stepping over a small log. Carl cringed, knowing that that was a personal question for Daryl. He wasn’t sure how the older man would react to it.

“My brother and I didn’t live in no fancy house or nothin’. We had to go out and find our own dinner, our own water. Back when my dad was sober, ‘fore I was born, he taught Merle some stuff. Merle taught me.”

“Merle’s your brother?”

“Yeah, he was.”

There was silence after that. Out of respect for Daryl’s lost family member. Carl remembered Merle. He was abrasive and always rude, but he seemed to care about Daryl more than anything in the world.

“You hear that?” Daryl smirked at the two of them.

Carl’s interest piqued and he listened closely to the sound of their surroundings. Once he heard the faint rushing of a river, a smile broke onto his face and he heard Ron chuckle beside him. The three of them headed towards the sound, mainly following Daryl and trusting him with the right directions. As soon as they reached the river, the three of them pulled out their empty water gallons and filled them up. Getting them back in, however, was the difficult part.

“Hey Daryl?” Ron turned to the older man, attempting to shove a full gallon of water into his bag. Daryl eyed him, tilting his head up and meeting his eyes to show him that he was listening, “Maybe we should clean up here? Just jump in for a little bit to get all of the dirt and blood off of us?”

Daryl grunted, looking around them cautiously, “Alright, you got five minutes.”

“I meant all of us, Daryl.” Carl scoffed at the indignation in Ron’s voice. He agreed with Ron, but he knew they shouldn’t waste much time here.

“Alright, alright, fine.” Daryl waved a hand at him and walked up to the water, cupping some in his hand and scrubbing his face, arms, and pits. Carl let out an inner sigh of relief, hoping that that would make Daryl smell any better. Ron was already washing himself as well. Carl placed his backpack on the ground and joined them.

The trip back to the SUV was uneventful and quick. They had the rest of the day ahead of them and they needed to find a place to sleep tonight. When they reached the car, Ron pulled out the map and handed it to Daryl, who displayed in on the hood of the car.

Carl tapped his finger on the city that was supposed to be their next stop, “It looks like it’s only four miles away. We can find some place to sleep there, maybe even get some more food before dark.”

Daryl grunted his agreement, folding the map back up and handing it to Ron.

“Isn’t going to a city dangerous?” Ron eyed them cautiously.

Carl shrugged at him, “It can be, if you don’t watch your surroundings close enough and there’s more walkers around. Besides, Spencer told us that it’s more of like a town that was beginning to become a city.”

“Bigger town, more supplies.” Daryl murmured as he hopped back into the front seat.

Ron and Carl joined him in the car. He turned around in his seat to talk to Ron, confused, “Didn’t you live around here? Before everything?”

“In Alexandria? No, my family and I were relocated from our house by soldiers at the beginning of it all, before it spread too far. We were in there ever since.”

“Oh.”

“What happened to you? In the beginning?”

Carl opened his mouth to speak, but was taken aback by how long ago it was. He cleared his throat, his brow pinched in thought, “My, uh, my dad was shot before everything happened. He was in a coma at the hospital. When it all started happening, my dad’s partner, Shane, went to go get him from the hospital so we could all leave. When he got back, he told my mom and me that my dad was dead and that we needed to go to Atlanta. That there was a safe camp there for people. But when we were waiting to get into the city, we saw Atlanta get bombed and built a camp in the hills with some people who were on the road with us. That’s where I met Daryl.” He looked to Daryl, seeing the troubled look in the man’s eyes. He must be thinking about how different life was for them now, “And Glenn and Carol. We were there for a while. One day, my dad showed up with some of our people. He saved them when they went to Atlanta to get some supplies.” He paused, his thoughts wandering to his past life, “It all went downhill from there.”

“Story times over, kids.”

Ahead of them was the city. The buildings were moderate in size, there was only a few that rose above the others. They entered it slowly, searching for the right building to put up base. Daryl parked the car a few blocks in, next to a closed off house with a fence around it. The roof had obvious water damage and the building itself looked run down. Its pale blue walls were chipping and covered in mold. The few other houses around it were not much better.

Carl looked towards the sun, “We only have about four hours left before the sun goes down.”

“Then let’s get moving,” Ron commented, exiting the car.

There was a stray walker in the yard and it growled and reached towards them as they opened up the gate to the fence. Ron took out his knife and waited for it to reach the fence before stabbing it through the eye. Daryl opened up the fence and the three edged closer to the house, checking their surroundings as they did. When they got to the porch, Carl stood back with his knife ready as Daryl knocked on the door. The minute sound of a walker stumbling through the house responded to the noise. Daryl nodded at Carl before ripping open the door. Carl carefully stepping inside, eyeing the living room area cautiously.

He gripped his knife tighter as his blue eyes landed on the walker coming into the living room from what he assumed was the dining room. Carl shoved the walker into the wall, sinking his knife into its soft, decaying head. The flicker of movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention. He watched as Ron entered the dining room, gun held high. Carl admired for a moment at Ron’s mental growth. He had started as an angry, grieving orphan, longing for his family and rejecting those who tried to comfort him. Now he was strong and brave, determined to help find supplies and protect those that he loved. Carl admired how quickly Ron bounced back from his tragedy. He remembered that when he lost his mom, he struck out in rage. He was angry at himself, his father, Maggie, Judith. He knew that they didn’t have anything to truly do with his mother’s death, but he couldn’t help the small fire that burned in his stomach afterwards. He even killed people, not necessarily to save his family, but for his own selfish mindset. Though, Carl has grown. He understands know why he reacted the way he did and he understands what Ron went through. He’s proud of his friend for conquering his own darkness.

His thoughts were interrupted by the site of Daryl stepping out of the hallway that must have led to the bathroom. The hunter nodded at him before flopping down on the couch and kicking his feet up onto the coffee table. The living room was mainly bare, just a brown loveseat, an armchair, a coffee table, and an old, cracked TV on top of a stand. Carl smiled when he saw Ron come out of the dining room door.

Ron smirked back at him, leaning against the doorframe. He pointed his thumb behind him, “Looks like they ate everything. They must’ve held up here for a while.”

“Yeah,” Daryl took out a cigarette and held it between his lips. He took out his zippo and lit it, taking a puff. Carl waved his hand trying to disperse the smoke that he exhaled, scrunching up his nose in disgust. Daryl stood up, “S’ look around, see if we can find anything.” His bright eyes swept over Carl and he reached out his arm and tugged at the collar of Carl’s shirt lightly, “And some new clothes. You look like shit.” With that, the older man walked out the door.

Carl scoffed at him, looking down at his clothes. They were covered in blood from the walker he had killed earlier. He heard Ron snicker next to him, causing Carl to give him a hard glare, “Oh shut up.”

Ron snorted at him. Carl felt heat rise in his cheeks when Ron placed his hand on Carl’s lower back, sending bolts of electricity through his body where Ron was touching him, “C’mon, Daryl’s not gonna wait on us.”

Carl wetted his lips and looked up at Ron, giving him a quick smile. Ron removed his hand and headed out the door. Carl followed him out, already missing his touch.

“’Bout time.” Daryl commented, waiting for them to catch up to him before heading down the street.

They stumbled upon an old clothing store. It was a bland white color with a strip of blue and its glass doors were smashed in. Daryl crept inside, glass crunching underneath his boots. Carl couldn’t hear any walkers. After checking the store and deeming it safe, they looked at the clothes that were left there. The store was partially a disaster. There were still many clothes on the rack, but some were strewn about on the ground.

Carl walked up to the nearest rack and starting looking through the clothes. All the ones were mainly sweaters. He smiled when he found a particular sweater, it was a pale brown color and knitted. It seemed like a perfect fit for Michonne. He looked at the size before shoving it into his backpack. He looked around across the store, yet nothing seemed to catch his eye.

Fuck, except him. Ron was digging through the racks, his face scrunching up when he saw something he didn’t like and his lips lifting when he saw something that interested him. Carl watched as he chuckled to himself, the warm light of the setting sun bouncing off of his skin and enlightening his smile even more, causing the combinations of colors in his eyes to brighten and melt together in the most perfect combination. His dirty blonde hair was curling from being wet previously, causing it to frame his handsome face. Carl bit his lip, admiring Ron’s jaw line and the pout of his soft, pink lips. Carl followed the slope of his lips to his high cheekbones, colored in a light shade of red over Ron’s pale skin, before reaching his beautiful hazel eyes. Carl’s breath caught when he realized that Ron was looking directly at him.

Half of Ron’s lips rose in a half-smirk, “Carl,” Carl closed his eyes at the chill that Ron’s voice sent down his spine, like a warm flame tickling his skin, “did you see anything you liked?”

Carl’s blue eyes snapped open and he maintained eye contact with Ron as he bit his lip. He whispered under his breath, “Fuck. . . .” Ron smirked at him, his shoulders going back and his head raising slightly to show off his pride at ruining Carl in this moment with only a look and a few words. Carl glared at him and huffed, tugging his shirt down to cover anything embarrassing. He really wouldn’t want Daryl to see that. He knew Ron was teasing him, but he wasn’t sure if Ron realized what his intentions seemed to be to Carl or if he was just playing a joke.

“You know, Carl,” Ron inclined his head towards him, “I think this would look good on you. It’s even in your size.” The older teen brandished a red flannel for him to take. Carl walked over to him and grabbed onto it, observing it. It was mainly a red color, but every square of the checkered pattern had a blue outline. Carl took off his dirty, brown flannel that was covered in walker blood, revealing his plain white t-shirt. He slipped into the red flannel easily, Ron being correct about his size. Carl turned to Ron, arms open wide, silently asking for his opinion.

Ron held his chin in his hand, looking him up and down. He made a twirling motion with his finger, “Turn around.”

“Seriously?”

Ron let out a small laugh, “Come on, turn around for me. How am I supposed to see if it looks good on you if I don’t see how you look from the back?”

Carl rolled his eyes, hard. He sighed, reluctantly turning around for him for a couple seconds before spinning back around, “Well?” He raised his eyebrow in question.

“I think,” Ron took his hand away from his chin, a light twinkling in his eyes, and pushed a lock of brown hair out of Carl’s face, “that you look really good in red.”  
Carl swallowed audibly at that, feeling his stomach twist in knots at the words.

“Hey, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum!” Carl flinched away from Ron at the sound of Daryl’s voice, rubbing furiously at his face as if to get rid of his blush. The hunter turned the corner of a rack sharply as he headed towards them, a handful of clothes in his hands, “I found some clothes for the little ass kicker, ‘thought she might need some.”

Carl nodded to him, smiling at the thought of his baby sister. He was right, it seemed as though she kept growing bigger every day. Carl offered his backpack to carry the clothes and Daryl shoved them inside, “Thanks Daryl.”

“Yeah.” He said in his raspy voice, eyes meeting his for a second before looking behind him, “It’s getting’ dark, let’s go.”

Carl zipped up his backpack and slipped it back on, glancing out of the corner of his eye to see Ron grabbing dark blue shirt off the rack for himself. The three of them headed back down the street towards their temporary base house. Daryl unlocked the fence while Carl and Ron took up the rear, looking out for walkers. The sun was nearly down, soon they wouldn’t have any light to see. They got inside quickly, making a quick check to make sure that the house was safe and secure.

Carl laid down on the loveseat, feeling thankful to stretch out his legs after a long day of being stuck in the car. Ron threw a small blanket onto him before taking residence in the big armchair a few feet away with his own blanket. Carl took his Beretta out from its holster and gripped it in his hand, fingers away from the trigger and on the grip of the gun. He was always prepared, just in case, when they were on a run. Carl met Daryl’s eyes for a split second, the older man nodding to him before taking up watch next to the living room window.

Carl released a long breath, trying to calm his nerves as he closed his eyes to find at least some sleep.

 

“Hey,” Carl gripped his gun, not opening his eyes just in case, “Carl, wake up.” He released his gun when he realized that it was Ron who was speaking to him. Carl sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and checking his surroundings.

Daryl was sitting on top of the table, checking how many bullets was in his gun before clicking in the magazine and slipping his backpack on. Ron was standing next to the armchair that Carl was sleeping in. Daryl had took the loveseat from him when he woke Carl up for his turn to watch in the middle of the night. He stood up from his makeshift bed and stretch his arms above his head, cracking his neck in the process. He hated sleeping on chairs and couches, but it was better than on the floor. Besides, Carl has slept in worse.

He reached for his backpack, still full of clothes for Judith and the sweater he found for Michonne, and grabbed the leftover water bottle that he had inside. He took a long drink from it, wishing that he could brush his teeth instead. He rolled his eyes when he remembered Michonne bitching about running out of toothpaste the other day. He put his backpack on and stood next to Ron, waiting for Daryl’s word to head out.

“I saw a Costco, ‘s too far away from the store we were at yesterday. I think we should head there, probably find some food.” He looked towards the two of them for their confirmation. All three of them had to agree on the next plan, that was something they agreed on when they first became a team. Daryl, Ron, and Carl had become a run group as soon as Ron had showed Rick that he could handle himself in difficult situations. Rick was still cautious around Ron, especially after his outburst that one night that resulted in Carl losing his gun. His father believed that Ron was unstable and had spoken to Carl that if Ron started becoming his father, he would need to step in sooner or later. No exceptions. Carl had stood his ground for Ron that day, fear like ice in his veins at the thought of Ron being put down like his drunken father, and containing his instinct to tremble as he met his father’s merciless eyes that night. He told his dad that Ron would never be like Pete, that he was nothing like him. That Carl would prove it to him and help Ron heal, remembering his promise to himself to protect Ron from anything, everything, and everyone.

Carl had proven him wrong when Ron asked Rick to help him learn how to officially shoot a gun, explaining to him about he wished to help out the community and go on runs. Carl had stood next to Ron the whole time, a small, victorious smirk on his face when he saw the shocked look on his father’s face. Rick had accepted to teach Ron and had put him through vigorous practices that tested Ron’s limits, making sure that no matter what Ron was not going to betray Alexandria or try to kill someone himself. Carl had called his dad out one night while they sat in the kitchen, everyone else sleeping besides them, and said that Rick was being unfair to Ron because he didn’t trust him.

That was when Rick had explained to his son that he needed to know that Ron would put the life of their family and the community before his own if he were to go outside the walls and go on runs with Carl, that that was the only way he could trust him. Carl was surprised that Rick was going to let Carl go on runs, as he had been asking for a while, and much less with Ron. That is, until he told him that the two of them would be going on runs from Daryl from then on. That was when the trio of Daryl, Ron, and Carl came to be.

Ron and Carl nodded at Daryl in confirmation and they headed out. It wasn’t smart to take the SUV, as it would create a lot of noise and was hard to navigate through the city. So, they emptied their backpacks in the car before leaving for the Costco that Daryl spotted yesterday.

The Costco was two blocks away from the store they found. Carl could see the large sign from the beat-up store, now knowing how Daryl had spotted it yesterday when they did not. Once they reached the parking lot, they saw that there was only a couple of walkers spread out amongst it. Ron trudged up to the nearest one, giving it a clear stab though the forehead. Carl walked forward, towards the entrance of the store, killing any walker that got near him. He knew that Daryl was right behind him with Ron following at the rear of their line. Carl had took out four walkers from the parking lot to the entrance, killing another as he got to the door. The high ceiling gateway was completely open, having must’ve been open during the time of infection.

Daryl scraped the tip of his foot against the concrete in front of the entrance, Carl now seeing the marks on the ground, “Someone must’ve taken an axe to the lock, banged up the concrete real good. Place has already been raided.”

“They couldn’t have taken all of it.” Carl looked back to see Ron shrug, his back towards him and watching the walkers that were slowly stumbling across the parking lot from a ways away.

Carl nodded, “He has a point, we should still check it out.”

“Alright.” Daryl grumbled. He grabbed a flashlight from his backpack and turned it on.

Carl followed suit, putting his hand with his knife over the one with the flashlight and shined it into the darkness of the Costco, “Ron, get out your flashlight, we’re going in.” He waited to hear the click of Ron turning on his flashlight before heading inside slowly.

Ten minutes went by and Carl was surprised to not find any walkers throughout the store yet, “Look,” he mumbled once he spotted a sign that included dry food, putting his light on it so that the others could see it, “C’mon.” Carl walked in the direction that the arrow was pointing, stopping once he reached the beginning of the aisle. He and Daryl checked the aisle with their flashlights while Ron looked out for anything behind them.

“Looks like someone got to it,” Daryl huffed out, frustrated, “dammit.”

Carl raised his flashlight above him to look up at the top of the shelves, “Daryl, there’s some boxes up top, there might be something in there. One of us could climb up top, cut it open and see what’s inside.”

“I’ll do it.” Ron offered, gaze flickering to their surroundings.

“You sure you can climb up there?” Daryl pointed to the top with a deadpan expression, not really thinking that Ron could do it.

Ron rolled his eyes at him, “Of course I can. I’ve climbed trees and fences before, I’m pretty sure some shelves won’t be that hard.”

Carl chuckled at Ron, a grin forming on his lips as he watched them stare each other down. Daryl let out an abrupt snort, humor coloring his features quickly, “Alright, big shot, lets see what ‘ya got.”

Ron rolled his eyes at him, shrugging off his backpack and shoving it into Daryl’s hands, “Alright old man, I’ll show you what I can do.” Ron smirked at Daryl as he stretched his arms out and gripped onto the metal railing, placing his foot onto the bottom shelf and pulling himself up to the next level. The shelves were five levels high and Carl knew that Ron could climb the, as he’s seen Ron climb the trees at Alexandria and over the wall with him and Enid. Carl side eyed Daryl once Ron reached the top level and put a hand over his mouth to keep himself from laughing at the defeated look on Daryl’s face.

“You’re lucky you didn’t bet your dinner, old man.” Ron called down to Daryl from the top level.

“Whatever,” Daryl muttered to himself, slinging Ron’s back pack onto his own shoulders.

When Ron started to dig his knife into the box Carl started to hear them. The achy growls and gurgling moans of walkers. Carl held his knife up and moved around to look with his flashlight, “Shit.” Carl cursed when he saw what seemed like ten walkers on the other end of the aisle.

“Carl!” He heard Ron yell down to him, he must also see the walkers coming towards them.

“Ron! Just stay up there, we can handle this!” Carl turned to walk out the other side of the aisle just in time to come face to face with one of the walkers that was in the parking lot. Carl stumbled back a step and pushed at the walker’s throat with his flashlight in a horizontal hold. The walker’s thin, white hair hung loosely from its head and its bloodshot eyes gleamed with hunger. Carl took his knife and jabbed it into the walkers head, letting its body fall to the ground. He turned to see Daryl struggling with two walkers, the other eight heading towards the hunter.

He ran forward and ripped his knife through one of the walker’s skulls that was surrounding Daryl, allowing him to take out the first one. Carl kicked an approaching walker to the ground and stabbed another one to his right in the eye before bringing his knife down into the skull of the walker on the ground. He turned to see Daryl take out two more on his own, pushing back a third one as it reached towards him. Carl whistled at the last two, attracting their attention. He still had his flashlight in his left hand and his knife in his right. Daryl had dropped his when he was struggling with the first two, causing the shadows of their fight to dance against the walls in an eerie illusion of an old puppet show.

Carl pushed the first walker into the second walker, causing them both to fall to the ground. He smashed his boot into one of their skulls before taking his knife and stabbing the other one in the head as it started reaching towards him.

He stood back, chest rising with his heavy breaths and sweat dripping down his forehead. He wiped his face with the sleeve of his flannel, his heart beating rapidly. He turned to look for Daryl to see him wiping his knife off on one of the walker’s shirts. Carl looked at his own knife, covering in the clotted blood of the walkers, and also wiped it off on one of the shirts of the walkers on the ground.

“Carl?” The soft sound of Ron’s voice jolted Carl back to what they were doing and he walked back to where he and Daryl were standing earlier.

“I’m here Ron! Daryl and I handled it!” Carl shouted up to him. He heard the relieved sigh come from Ron. He noticed that Daryl had grabbed his flashlight from the ground and joined him at the bottom of the shelves.

“You find anything, big shot?” Daryl called up to Ron.

Ron let out a chuckle, “Yeah, actually. There’s a shit ton of long term survival dry food up here in packages.” Carl laughed at the irony of find survival food that was meant for surviving an apocalypse, “Did you just want me to throw some down to you and you guys can fill up the backpacks?”

“Yeah, that sounds like a good plan.” Carl grinned, despite being attacked by walkers, he believed that they got lucky today.

“First one’s coming down!”

Daryl and Carl repeatedly caught the packages of dry survival food as Ron threw them down, gathering them in their backpacks and filling them until it was hard to close the zippers.

“We got all that we could Ron! You can come down now!” Carl shouted up to him and started hearing the shuffling of Ron making his way down the shelving.

As soon as Ron’s feet hit the floor, the older teen gripped Carl in a tight huge, knocking off his hat accidently and shoving his face into his hair. Carl, shocked, hugged him back just as tightly, embracing the feeling and presence of Ron next to him. Ron unlatched his arms from him and gripped his shoulders, not hard but sternly.

Ron met his eyes, “Don’t ever tell me to stay back like that again, okay? You could’ve gotten hurt, or worse.”

Carl frowned, realizing now how waiting at the top of the shelves and not knowing if Carl was okay must have affected Ron, what must have been running through his head up there. That maybe he would’ve lost Carl just like he lost his family; to be eaten alive by walkers. Carl reached up and squeezed Ron’s hand on his shoulders, nodding to him subtly, “It’s okay, Ron, I had Daryl with me.”

“Yeah,” Ron smiled at Carl and let go of him, stuffing his hands in his pockets, “yeah, you’re right. Sorry.” Carl shook his head, about to tell Ron that he didn’t have to be sorry for wanting him to be safe, but Ron had already focused on Daryl, “Now Daryl, what were you saying about how I couldn’t climb?”

Daryl rolled his eyes at him with a snort and shoved Ron’s backpack, now heavy and full of food, into his arms, “Whatever, big shot.”

Ron huffed at the weight in his arms and Carl snickered to himself. He turned, flashlight out and knife up, and followed after Daryl who had started towards where they came from.

The walk back to the house was long and tiring. They encountered a few more walkers, but were lucky enough to be spared today from facing anything much larger than a pair of two on the trek back. Their backs hurt from the weight of the food in their backpacks, but they burned through it knowing that what they were doing would inevitably help the community to keep thriving.

Daryl popped open the trunk of the SUV as soon as they got to the house. He dumped the food from the backpack into the back and pushed them into the upper right corner, an area that hadn’t been filled with the supplies that they had already gathered previously. Carl was next in line to dump his, then Ron. It felt like such a relief to let go of all the weight. Ron shut the trunk and leaned against it for a couple of seconds.

The three of them went through the house, making sure once again that everything was safe and secure. The time they had spent at the Costco and the trek back had taken up their whole day, as the sun was already starting to go down. Carl once again made himself a makeshift bed on the loveseat. Ron had already offered to take the first watch, something Carl, and he’s pretty sure Daryl, is grateful for. As soon as Carl settled and closed his eyes, he fell asleep.

 

Carl woke up slowly, his blue eyes opening the slightest bit. The first thing he saw was Ron’s silhouette illuminated by the light of the moon coming from the living room window. His posture was tense, his hand in a vice grip around his knife and face focused at something outside.

Carl quietly sat up, his gun already in his hand. He stood from his position on the loveseat and tiptoed toward Ron, trying to make the least amount of noise possible. He slid up next to Ron, causing Ron to flinch slightly until he realized that it was just Carl. Ron put a finger to his lips and pointed outside.

Carl looked out the window, not being able to see anything from his angle. He whispered as quietly as he could, “What’s wrong?”

Ron shook his head, body loosening from its tense position, “Nothing,” he whispered back, “just some walkers.”

Carl studied him closely, noticing the deep frown of his lips and the troubled look in his eyes, “You okay?”

Ron shook his head, “Just thinking. . . .” He bit his lips, eyes downcast, “We’ve been through all of these places and I,” he pause, fidgeting with his hands, “I just expected to see those words again.”

Carl looked away and out the window, fixing his eyes on the full moon, its light illuminating the ghostly remnants of the city they were in, “That’s a good thing.” There was a pause after that, the only sound being that of Daryl’s soft snores from the armchair he was sleeping in. Carl glanced over at Ron to see him picking at the sleeves on his denim coat that he brought with him before they left Alexandria, “Hey,” Ron looked up at him, his beautiful hazel eyes meeting his blue ones, “we’re going to be okay.”

Ron nodded at him and stopped picking at his sleeve. He ran a hand through his hair and licked his lips, nodding once again, “Yeah. . . .”

Carl gave him a soft smile, “Get some sleep, I’ll take watch.”

Ron’s head snapped up to look at him, meeting his eyes once again. His lips curved into a small smile, “You need sleep too.”

Carl rolled his eyes at him, “I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah . . . yeah, you always are.” Ron took a small step closer to Carl, causing their faces to get closer. Carl felt his stomach jump and the butterflies start to fly around rapidly. Ron was so close to him that their breath was intermingling with each other’s and Carl could feel the heat in Ron’s hazel eyes. No, not just heat. There was something tender in Ron’s eyes that made Carl’s heart beat faster and his throat become dry. He felt nervous and he shifted his body closer to Ron’s at the feeling of the intense atmosphere around them. Carl held his breath when Ron lifted his hand. He wasn’t sure what he was anticipating for or what he thought Ron was going to do. Yet, Ron gently moved a piece of hair out of his eyes and tucked it behind his ear.

“Goodnight.” Ron spoke softly, removing his hand and stepping away from Carl and toward the loveseat.

Carl’s body unraveled from its tense position. He noticed that he was panting softly and his head felt light and dizzy. He felt a blush rise in his cheeks and glanced at Ron, who was settling in to go to sleep. He tried to clear his throat as quietly as he could and turned to the window, looking out onto the streets of the city and ignoring the twisting in his stomach that wouldn’t stop.

 

In the morning, they set out on the road again for their next stop.


	4. Part IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's pretty short guys, sorry. . . .

**Oats In The Water**

**Part IV**

“Good news is you're not dead yet.”

– Gareth

 

Carl threw his back, loving the feeling of the sun touch his pale skin touch his face and neck. He placed his can of beans on his thighs and placed his hands behind him to support his upper body. He let his legs hang off the edge of the open trunk of the SUV, dragging the tip of his shoes against the hot concrete. He mumbled an apology to Ron when he accidentally hit his foot with his own. Ron was sitting beside him, already finished with his “breakfast” of canned beans. He heard Ron let out a small huff of air threw his nose and felt him lightly push back against his foot. Carl smirked, eyes still closed, and pushed back at Ron as well. They repeated their actions, the game only getting rougher each time. Finally, Carl sat back up and pushed Ron with his hands, causing the older teen to catch himself on the frame of the car. Ron looked at him, shocked, not expecting him to up and push him.

Carl gave Ron a cocky smirk, “I win.” Ron proceeded to roll his eyes, but it didn’t hide the fact that he was smiling.

Their group of three had traveled out that morning from the city previously towards their next destination. They were nearing the end of their seven day trip, making today their fifth day. Daryl had stopped the SUV at a crowded road earlier, telling the two of them that they needed some gas. Currently, Ron and Carl were waiting for Daryl to get back to the car, as they had already finished siphoning gas after making it a competition between the two of who could get the most gas as quick as possible and whoever made it to the car first with a full tank was the winner.

Carl won, unsurprisingly. Ron was a close second though and blamed it on a walker that had gotten in his way. Carl just told him that he was making excuses for being slow. It was all in fun and games, though. He knew that Ron was capable of many abilities that Carl could never go against.

“Hey, Daryl’s back,” Ron nudged Carl, causing him to look up and see Daryl walking towards them with two tanks of gas, “About time you pulled some weight around here, old man.”

Daryl eyed Ron from head to toe, a half smile on his face, “You tyrna fight, big shot?” Ron raised his eyebrows at Daryl and flinched when Daryl lunged at him slightly, “’S what I thought.” He smirked at Ron who glared back at him.

“So where are we heading?” Carl piped up, ready to get back on the road. He raised an eyebrow when he noticed that Daryl was shifting from foot to foot, “Daryl?”

Daryl pulled a piece of paper from his pocket, brandishing it to them slightly, “Denise told me about this place, just up the road.”

“You want to go to it?” Carl inquired, finishing off his can of beans.

Daryl nodded, waving the paper again, “She gave me a list, said she wanted us to go look at it, find some stuff for Maggie.”

Carl looked back at Ron for confirmation, only to see a quizzical expression on his face. Ron spoke up, “So, is it a hospital or a day care or something?”

“Hospital,” Daryl grunted.

Carl sat back for a moment. He knew it was a horrible idea to go to a hospital. Hospitals were usually filled with walkers because thousands of people were sick and thought medicine could cure the virus that was spreading at the time. But if Denise believed that Maggie would need more supplies for when Maggie had her baby, then Carl believed that it was worth it. He refused to let Maggie die like his mother did. Having made up his mind, Carl turned to Ron for his opinion. The older teen nodded at him, standing up and stretching.

Carl couldn’t help the smile that grew on his face when he addressed Daryl, “I still can’t believe they’re having a baby.”

Daryl met his eyes and Carl could barely see the light blue color of the hunter’s eyes through the hair in his face. He could see the slight sight of a smile, though, “You’ve grown up, kid.” The comment made Carl’s chest swell with pride, knowing that Daryl saying that had more meaning than what he was giving off. Daryl patted Carl’s hat, making it push down on his head, and walked away to the driver’s seat. Carl joined them, sitting in the passenger seat, and Daryl maneuvered his way through the street of half-hazard placed cars.

It took Daryl thirty minutes to get to the hospital. The parking lot that surrounded the hospital was closed off with a chain link fence. Carl thought that that was odd for a hospital to be surrounded by a chain link fence, even if the hospital was just up the road from the town. Even for it to be away from the town was an odd thought, but maybe it was just a part of a different county before the apocalypse arrived.

Daryl parked the SUV outside the entrance of the fence. The gate was bolted shut with a thick chain around the bars. The three of them exited the vehicle and Carl observed the parking lot. There were multiple cars scattered throughout, along with the rotting bodies of the dead, scattered papers, and general debris. Carl squinted his eyes at the dead bodies, noticing that they were not walkers and that they must have been previously killed.

“See anything?” Ron asked, coming up next to him. He looked skeptical and Carl didn’t blame him. It was suspiciously quiet and empty for a hospital. He knew that Ron didn’t necessarily want to go to the hospital for supplies, but he wanted to help Maggie and he trusted Daryl’s gut when it came to runs.

“No, nothing yet.” Carl couldn’t help the feeling of suspicion that was growing in the pit of his stomach. Ron nodded at him, looking over his shoulder at Daryl, who had brought out some bolt cutters from the back of the SUV. Daryl broke through the chain and pushed open the gate for them to get inside. Daryl pushed the gate closed once again, placing a large rock against it to keep it closed.

Daryl took out the piece of paper from his pocket and passed it around to them, “I don’t know half of what’s on that list, so make sure to read the labels.”

Carl snorted when he realized that Denise drew some rough sketches of equipment next to the list with arrows pointing to the words. He passed it to Ron who laughed, “Fucking Denise.”

“Actually, Tara’s probably the one who drew the pictures, just for Daryl.”

Daryl huffed at them, “Whatever.” He grabbed the paper from Ron and shoved it into his pocket.

They formed a line, just like they have done before, with Daryl in the front this time, Carl in the middle, and Ron in the back. The feeling in Carl’s stomach grew the closer they go to the entrance doors of the hospital. It looked to be ten stories high from his perspective. As they approached the doors, they noticed that they were once again chained shut. Daryl, having brought the bolt cutters with him just in case, pounded on the glass to see how many walkers would appear.

Three showed up at once and two minutes later, two more appeared. Carl noticed that they were all dressed in scrubs and coats that were covered with splatters of blood. As the walkers pushed against the door, the door starting to open towards them, but was held shut by the chain. Daryl lifted the bolt cutters, preparing to cut the chain, and looked up at Carl and Ron for them to get ready.

The two backed up, raising their knives and preparing for the oncoming walkers, and then nodded to Daryl to break the chain. The double doors flung open, the five walkers rushing towards them with gnashing teeth and outstretched arms. Carl easily took down the first two and let Ron take down the other two that had ventured towards him. Carl smirked at Ron when they made eye contact and purposefully kicked the last walker to the ground. He gripped his knife and went to kill the walker, but out of nowhere Ron stabbed the walker in the head first.

Carl jerked back and gaped at him. Ron flicked the blood off of his knife and raised his head challengingly at Carl, his posture prideful, “I win.”

Carl let out a harsh breath through his nose. So Ron’s trying to compete today? He thought, wiping off the blood on his knife on the walker’s blue scrubs. Ron didn’t know what he was getting himself into, not knowing that Carl was extremely competitive and hated to lose. He stood back up from his crouch and followed Ron and Daryl into the hospital.

The hallway was trashed. There were papers scattered all over the floor, sticking to his boots as they advanced forward, and puddles of blood were a common factor. Carl cringed and skirted past a body that had its back to the wall and a large, gaping bullet hole in its head. The walls were covered in bloody hand prints and bullet holes, as well as water damage and mold. Carl coughed and scratched at his nose at the disgusting smell of blood, mold, and rotting flesh.

“This place is fucking disgusting.” Ron commented, covering his nose and clearing his throat.

Carl agreed with him, but was preoccupied by the ceiling above them. The white color of the ceiling was now a brown, watery color along with mold that was scattered everywhere, Carl was guessing from all of the water damage that it was receiving since the breakout.

“Alright,” Daryl spoke up, lowering his gun after looking into one of the rooms at the end of the hallway, “’S clear. Check for what we need.” The three of them split up, checking and making sure the rooms were clear before they entered them. The first level was mainly full of small offices that people would use for check-ups. Carl had scavenged the cupboards of at least five rooms and came up with no supplies that was on Denise’s list. Carl walked back out into the hallway to see Daryl rummaging through the receptionist desk. He didn’t even blink when Daryl slammed a desk drawer shut out of frustration.

“Nothin’.” He snarled out.

“Should we go to the next level?” Ron asked, approaching them from the other hallway that he had just combed through for supplies.

“Yeah,” Daryl shrugged his shoulders and stretched out his arm as if supporting a hidden weight on his shoulders, but paused when he realized what he was doing. Carl frowned at the defeated look on Daryl’s face, knowing that Daryl had subconsciously lifted his crossbow without having it. He knew what it felt like to lose a weapon that felt like a second limb.

The three of them took the staircase to the second level. Daryl tapped on the entry door, waiting for the sound of walkers. The familiar hiss welcomed them shortly and Daryl roughly pushed the door open, causing the walker to fly back. Daryl rushed forward and stabbed the walker quickly while Carl and Ron rushed out of the stairwell and onto the second floor, prepared to face more walkers, but were shocked at the sight before them.

It was the same in the fact that it was just several hallways with closed and open doors leading to small rooms, but the sight of it was worse. Carl heard Ron gag at the smell of rotting flesh and he cringed at the sight of the several dead bodies of patients and doctors that littered the ground, pools of dried blood surrounding all of them. There were flies swapping back and forth between the bodies and the sound of their buzzing was starting to overwhelm Carl’s senses.

On the wall next to them, written in blood, were the words ‘Beware of the Dead.’ Carl felt a hand on his shoulder and looked back to see Daryl with a somber look on his face.  
“C’mon, ‘s go to the next level instead.” Carl nodded at him and glanced at Ron to see if he heard Daryl. The older teen’s usually bright, hazel eyes were dark and sad, holding so much empathy and pity for the dead. Carl hated to see that look on Ron’s face. He knew that Ron still wasn’t used to seeing the horrifying truth that was outside of the walls, but when reality showed its face, it was brutal. Carl reached out for Ron’s hand, gripping his fingers and pulling softly towards the door to get Ron out of his traumatized state.

Ron blinked several times and Carl wasn’t sure if his eyes were watering from the smell or the older teen was on the brink of tears. He cleared his throat and allowed Carl to tug him back to the stairwell where Daryl was waiting for them. Daryl shut the door behind them, turning on his flashlight to get some light into the stairwell. Carl’s eyes drifted towards Ron, who was leaning against the wall with his hands on his knees and his head bowed. He and Daryl stood off to the side to give Ron time to process it all.

After a couple of minutes, Daryl spoke up, “You okay, kid?”

Ron nodded, lifting his head slowly and clearing his throat again. He pushed himself off the wall and readjusted his backpack, “Yeah, let’s keep going.”

They took another set of stairs to the door of the third floor, Daryl knocking on this one as well. After hearing no noise, Daryl pushed open the door to a bare hallway. This floor was shaped differently than the others, though. It had a circular center desk that was a few steps away from them with signs that stated which of the five hallways was what designated area. Carl’s feelings brightened once he read the bold letters above the center desk.

**MATERNITY WARD**

Carl tried to control himself from fist bumping the air in glee. Daryl gripped his shoulder from behind and shushed them, “You hear that?” Carl strained his ears and focused on the sound of their surroundings. That’s when he could hear it, the creaking and whining of the building. He looked above them at the ceiling, which looked like it was about ready to collapse at any moment from all of the water damage it had, “Keep your eyes up,” Daryl whispered and proceeded to walk down a hallway that was to the right, “split up.”

Carl took the hallway that was on the left while Ron took the one that was next to his, leaving two of the hallways to be searched later. Carl stepped carefully, making sure to focus on the sound of surroundings and the open doorways ahead of him. He entered the first door, which was a small room with a bathroom and a bed. Carl searched the room thoroughly, coming up empty handed once again. He exited with a sigh on his lips and checked the room across the hall, coming up again empty handed. He was beginning to wonder if the hospital even had supplies in the first place or if it had already been previously raided. Carl’s hallway was nothing but a small IV and some Advil that was stashed in one of the cabinets.

He ventured over to Ron’s hallway, peeking into the rooms to find him before discovering him in one of the last rooms, “Did you find anything?” He couldn’t help the small chuckle when Ron jumped, his back facing Carl.

“Jesus, Carl! Don’t do that, you’re going to give me a fucking heart attack.” Ron barked at him, his back still turned to him.

Carl tried to peak to see what he was shoving into his backpack, “What’s that?”

“Huh?” Ron glanced over his shoulder, his movements starting to become more frantic, “Um, uh, nothing. Just some medicine.” He zipped up his backpack quickly and slung it onto his back.

Carl arched an eyebrow at him, not believing him at all, “Okay.” They exited Ron’s hallway and met with Daryl who was rummaging through the center desk.

Daryl peeked up at them, reading some labels on some medication bottles, “Hey kid, you and me are gonna go to the next floor. Big shot, you search the next two hallways, got it?” Daryl stood back up, shoving the bottles into his backpack. Ron nodded at the older man and briefly gripped Carl’s arm before turning towards one of the last two hallways.

Carl followed Daryl to the stairwell, noting that the light from the windows was beginning to dim. Daryl flicked on his flashlight in the stairwell and they went up to the fourth floor door. Daryl knocked on it roughly, waiting to hear the sound of walkers. Carl grew anxious when he heard the moans, from what he guessed was about five or six walkers. Daryl turned to him, the question if he was ready in his eyes. He nodded, preparing himself for the fight. The hunter slammed open the door, crushing a weak walker against the wall with the force of it. Carl grabbed the first walker he saw by the throat and stabbed it through the eye and pushed its body onto another walker that was approaching him. As that walker went down, he turned to another walker that was coming towards him full force. It backed him up into the wall and Carl grappled with it, pushing its head away and glared at the torn apart mouth that was snapping at him, trying to lean his head as far away from it as he could.

The weight of the walker lifted off of him when Daryl stabbed it through the back of its head and shoved it to the ground. Carl observed that Daryl had killed the other walker that Carl had pushed down, as well as two other walkers. The older man met his eyes, silently wondering if he was okay. He nodded to him to assure to him that he was fine and moved forward down the hallway that they entered.

“Daryl?” Carl piped up. The man grunted his response, “Don’t you think it’s weird that we’re at a hospital, yet there’s not as many walkers around as there usually would be?”

Daryl shrugged, “Figured they left, started walkin’ in herds.”

“Yeah, but the door was chained shut, they wouldn’t have been able to get ou-” Carl caught himself as he tripped over a wheelchair that was tipped over, causing the wheelchair to hit the wall, “Shit, fuck.” He muttered, glaring at the inanimate wheelchair.

“Think I found out why, kid.” Carl looked up to see another pair of double doors, this time made out of metal instead of glass and it was chained shut by the handles. In red letters on the door were the words ‘DO NOT OPEN.’ The noise of Carl tripping had caused for the walkers behind the doors to push forward, trying to find the source of the sound. They started spitting out growls and gurgles, hissing and pitching their arms forward in Carl and Daryl’s direction through the gap between the doors, but were unable to get through because of the chain. Carl could hear the floor begin to creak from under them by the weight of the massive amount of walkers on the other side of the door.

The sound of a gun being shot caused Daryl and Carl to instinctively crouch down. Carl’s heartrate picked up once he realized that the gunshot wasn’t coming from their floor. Carl could hear two more gunshots go off and a frustrated shout, followed with more gunshots.

“Ron!” Carl tore his Beretta from its holster and rushed towards the stairwell, not caring if Daryl was behind him or not. He jumped over the bodies of the walkers that they killed earlier and ripped open the door. He skirted down the cement stairs, vaguely hearing another set of steps behind him. He burst through the third floor door, panic set in his blue eyes and sweat dripping down his forehead, “Ron!”

“Carl!”

His brown hair whipped around his face as he sped around the center desk console, looking through each hallway to try and find Ron. His movements were in a constant flurry of motion and his head was full of static, his only one focus of concern was Ron. More gunshots went off and the sound of the ceiling creaking above them became more apparent. Carl finally spotted Ron in the center hallway struggling with four walkers that were crowded around him, at least eight bodies of already killed walkers surrounded the group. Carl went to run towards Ron full speed, but was jerked back by his arms by Daryl.

“Daryl, what the fuck! Let me go!” His attempts to be released from Daryl’s hold were ended when he heard the sound. The creaking became a loud crash, like thunder, and Carl watched in slow motion as the ceiling a couple feet in front of Ron’s struggle caved in. The bodies of walkers and debris fell through, cutting off the sight of Ron and bringing up a huge amount of dust and guts. Daryl had grabbed Carl in time to spin them around and cover him with his body from the falling debris. As the dust settled, Carl ripped out of Daryl’s grip and searched for any sight of Ron.

“No. . . . No, no, no. . . .” Carl whimpered, taking a small step towards the pile that was splitting the hallways in two with Ron nowhere in sight, “Ron!” He shouted and quieted to listen for an answer back. He got nothing.

“Kid, Carl, I-” Carl turned on Daryl, knowing his eyes were watery and his face an angry red.

“We need to find him. He could still be alive. There has to be a stairwell on the other side, there _has_ to be.”

Daryl paused for a moment, body tense, before he let out a long sigh and nodded to him. The two ran towards the stairwell. They climbed the stairs up to the fifth level, Carl ignoring the burn in his legs. When they tried to open the door, they realized that it was jammed and the sound of a group of walkers came from the other side when they heard their attempts at opening the door. Carl decided to run back to the fourth level door, Daryl following closely behind him. He ran down the hallway and stopped when he came upon the hole that was created by the walkers, nearly filled to the top with debris and dead bodies. There were a few walkers on the other side, one of them stumbling and falling into the walker debris. Carl took a few steps back before leaping across the hole. He killed the first walker he encountered, as well as the other one that was wandering towards him. He briefly glanced behind him to see Daryl had already jumped the hole as well.

Carl ran towards the other stairwell that was on the other side of the hallway. He ran down the stairs, not thinking when he opened up the third level door. He was greeted by the sight of a group of walkers clawing at a closed door right before the walker debris that was splitting the hallway in two. Carl felt hope bloom in his chest, betting that Ron was alive and behind the closed door. His hope turned to panic when the walkers began to set their eyes on them.

Carl eyed the group, judging of about twenty to twenty-five of them. He brought his Beretta up to his eye and started shooting at them, aiming for the head. He heard Daryl join in beside him, but they only took out six of them before the walkers started to get too close and crowd them.

“Hey, c’mon!” Daryl tugged at Carl’s arm, causing him to only graze the head of one of the walkers, and pulled him into one of the rooms in the hallway and slamming the door shut behind them. Daryl pushed up against the door, trying to keep the walkers that were pounding against the door out. Carl rushed forward and put all of his weight on the door, planting his feet for good measure. He could feel sweat dripping down his face and causing his shirt to stick to his back. He let out harsh breaths as he gazed out the windows that was across from him to see the sun start to go down, turning their world completely dark and leaving them to fend for themselves against the dead.

Well, he thought, there goes our fifth day. . . .


	5. Part V

**Oats In The Water**

**Part V**

“Nowadays, people are just as dangerous as the dead.”

– Father Gabriel

“I think Ron was in that room, that’s why the walkers were trying to get in.”

Daryl nodded, grunting from keeping the door closed and readjusting his feet when they started to slip against the tiled floor, “How the hell are we gettin’ past these assholes?”

Carl started to wrack his brain, trying to think of something that would help the situation and save Ron. They couldn’t try and exit out the window because they were on the third floor of a building, there were too many walkers for just Carl and Daryl to face if they tried to go out into the hallway. He couldn’t think of anything! He felt a slight sense of panic flutter in his stomach when one of the walkers slammed against the door, causing it to open momentarily. Luckily, Daryl and Carl pushed back in time to slam it shut again. Carl pressed his back against the door and cried out in frustration, “Fuck!” That only made the walkers grown louder.

“Hey! Hey assholes!” Carl’s breath hitched when he heard Ron’s voice on the other side of the door, “Yeah, that’s right! Come and get me you bunch of fuckfaces!”

“Ron?” Carl whipped around, placing his hands on the door and shouting, “No, Ron! What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” The younger teen looked to Daryl, “We have to open the door, we need to save Ron! They’re distracted now.”

Daryl took a moment to look Carl in the eyes and Carl tried to communicate to the older man that he would die trying to save Ron. Daryl reached out and opened the door. They rushed forward, shooting the walkers from behind, aiming specifically for the head and trying not to get anywhere near where Ron was trying to defend himself against the walkers that had already accosted him. Once Carl ran out of bullets, he charged forward and ripped through the walkers as he tried to find his way toward Ron. He could feel the blood flying onto his face and his clothes, could feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins, yet his only thought was Ron.

Ron was covered in splattered blood, his hands looked as though they had been drenched in it, and his shoulders were heaving with every breath he took. Carl felt like he couldn’t breathe, his chest constricting the more he tried. Ron met his blue eyes and Carl felt such a relief to look into Ron’s hazel eyes once again. He feared that maybe he wouldn’t be able to see them again. His feet instinctively started rushing towards Ron and Ron opened his arms, expecting the hug from Carl. Carl felt himself finally take in a breath when Ron wrapped his arms around him tightly. Carl gripped him back, shoving his face into his chest, not caring about the blood or the smell of death on him, just happy that Ron was alive and uninjured. Carl vaguely heard the sound of his hat falling to the ground as Ron pushed it away and shoved his face into his hair. The younger teen closed his eyes and silently enjoyed the feeling of Ron with him in this moment.

Carl didn’t know how long they were hugging, but apparently too long for Daryl to handle because the older man cleared his throat in an obviously uncomfortable way. Carl reluctantly let go of Ron and took a small step back, feeling heat in his cheeks as he bent down and picked up his hat.

“I don’t know about you guys,” Ron spoke up, the exhaustion evident in his voice, “but I’m getting sick of this hospital.”

Carl chuckled and Daryl smiled at Ron, giving him a one armed hug, “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Getting to the SUV was a relief in and of itself. Even though they didn’t come up with as much supplies for Maggie as they wished, they did manage to get her some antibiotics that could help her in the long run. It was pitch black outside and the noise of the collapsing floor had attracted some attention from walkers on the outside of the hospital. Daryl pushed the rock that he had placed to keep the fence closed with his foot and seamlessly killed a walker that was on the other side of the fence. The next walker in their sight was a ways away, so the three of them ignored it and proceeded to get inside of the car. Daryl did a u-turn in the hospital parking lot and exited back out of the fence and once again they were back on the road.

Ron leaned between the two seats up front to speak with Carl and Daryl, “So what now? We can’t exactly find any supplies in the dark.”

Daryl side-eyed Carl, who was slumped in his seat tiredly, the adrenaline already out his system and leaving him exhausted. He raised his eyebrows at Daryl’s stare and shrugged at the older man, “Maybe we should just find someplace to sleep right now, get our energy back and then find more supplies later.”

Daryl was quiet for a moment, debating Carl’s opinion, “Yeah. Big shot, where’s the map?”

Ron stretched himself across the center console and started digging through the glove box until he got his hands on the map and sat back down. He spread the map open and searched for the road that they were on. Carl wondered if Ron didn’t know where they were, but he was wrong when Ron placed his finger on a small town, “There’s a place just a couple miles out, just turn left up at this sign and keep heading straight.”

Carl was relieved to finally be away from the hospital, watching it vanish from his view in the side mirror when they turned left. He rested his head against the seat, his mind finally quieting from its panicked state. 

Carl jolted up when he heard a car door slam shut, not realizing that he had fallen asleep as they were driving. He rubbed at the tiredness in his eyes and opened up his own door, making sure to check his surroundings as he came out. Carl came to realize that Daryl had driven off the main road onto a back road made of dirt and had stopped at, what looked like, an old shack house in the middle of the woods. It reminded him of the barn that Daryl had led him and his family to during the storm while they were out on the road. It was still dark out, but the sky was starting to turn to a dark blue and purple mix.

Ron crept up next to him, a soft smile on his face. He whispered when he spoke, “Good morning.”

Carl huffed at him, but let a smile grow on his face, “Morning.” Ron and Carl stood close to each other next to the car, their arms nearly touching. Daryl had told them to stay where they were at while he went and checked out the woods around them.

“We have one day left of our trip,” Ron broached a subject for conversation, “I can’t wait to get back home.”

Carl felt warm at the thought of going home, “Yeah, this is the sixth day, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Ron nodded, still keeping his voice down, “hey, um, Carl?” Carl hummed in response, keeping his eyes out to the woods just in case, “I-uh, I just-”

Carl turned his head to look at Ron, curious as to why he was stuttering so much, “What’s wrong?”

Ron paused, biting his lip, and vigorously shook his head. He looked away from Carl and out into the woods, “Never mind. It’s nothing.”

Carl raised an eyebrow at Ron, wondering why he was acting so weird all of a sudden, “You know you can tell me anything, Ron, it’s okay.”

Ron ran a hand through his hair, taking the few locks that had fallen in his face out of the way. He then scratched at the stubble that was growing on his face and met Carl’s blue eyes, “Yeah, yeah I know.”

Carl nodded at him and looked away once again, rubbing at his eyes because he was still tired from his quick nap in the car. His heart quickened when he felt Ron tentatively brush his fingers against Carl’s palm. Before Ron could take his hand away, Carl latched on to Ron’s pinky with his pointer finger. His face grew even warmer when Ron slid his fingers between the spaces of Carl’s and held his hand. Carl gave him a soft squeeze and didn’t let go. Neither of them looked at each other as this occurred and Carl wondered if Ron was experiencing the same fluttering feeling in his stomach like Carl right now.

The younger teen tried to let go when he saw Daryl appear from the woods on his side, but Ron squeezed Carl’s hand again, silently telling him not to let go. Carl tried to fight off the smile that was trying to appear on his face as he greeted Daryl.

“I’ll take first watch,” the older man stated, “but don’t be forgettin’ that I’mma wake you up first, kid, since you already got some sleep.” He pointed to Carl, a glare in his eyes that wasn’t serious, and then turned away from them and headed towards the shack house, not even mentioning that Ron and Carl were holding hands. They followed Daryl inside, knowing that the older man had already cleared it when they arrived.

“Daryl,” Carl murmured, trying to catch the hunter’s attention, “I can take first watch. You’re tired and you already drove us all the way here, let me do it.”

Daryl shook his head, stubborn as always, “Nah, just get to sleep. I’ll be fine.”

Carl let out a frustrated sigh, knowing that there was no way to change Daryl’s mind once he was set on something. He felt Ron tug at his hand, leading them to a flat spot on the ground. Ron let go of his hand to bring out two blankets from his backpack. He laid the first one down on the ground and laid down on top of it, waiting for Carl to get comfortable as well. Carl laid on his side, facing Ron, and took out his Beretta. He reached his arm up and placed it slightly next to his head, but off the makeshift bed that Ron created so that Ron wouldn’t accidently hit it or roll on it in his sleep. He kept his hand on it though, ignoring the awkward stretch of his arm. Ron covered them with the other blanket and turned to face Carl. Ron eyed his awkward arm angle and huffed out a laugh. The older teen raised his arm and gently held onto Carl’s wrist before closing his eyes to fall asleep.

Carl yawned and closed his eyes as well, falling asleep quickly with Ron by his side.

 

He woke up by Daryl nudging him in the side with his boot, “Get up, ‘s your turn.” Carl cracked his eyes open slowly, cringing at the bright light of the sun that was beaming through the boards of wood. He got up slowly, untangling himself from Ron’s arm that he must have put over him when they were sleeping. Ron rolled over unconsciously, taking the rest of the blanket with him. He stretched fully when he stood up, cracking his neck and back in relief. He couldn’t wait to get back to his bed in Alexandria, but he knew that flat ground was better than nothing.

He let out a raspy laugh when Daryl tore the blanket from Ron’s arms when he wouldn’t give it up. Ron, half asleep, lifted his head in agitation, “What the-oh for fuck’s sake Daryl.” He grumbled, taking some of the blanket that Daryl offered him and turned away from him again, falling right back to sleep. Carl stepped up to the window that Daryl had been watching out of previously and grabbed the plastic water bottle that Daryl had left him on the window ceil. The sun was already up in full swing and Carl guessed that it was about eleven o’clock in the morning. The woods outside were calm and Carl could hear the birds chirping in the trees. Today was the last day that they had an opportunity to run for more supplies and start heading back home, but Carl doubted that they would be running for anymore supplies. He believed that they should and that it would benefit them in the long run, but Daryl seemed completely drained from yesterday and didn’t want to push the man’s stability any farther.

Carl spent his time on watch by watching the forest come to life around them and watching the sun slowly rise throughout the hours with an occasional trip around the perimeter of the shack every hour. He was grateful when he heard Ron start to wake up from his sleep, muttering grumpily about Daryl not sharing the blanket enough. Carl waited for him to stumble over to his post by the window before offering him some water. Ron smiled thankfully at him and took a few swallows.

“How long have you been on watch?” Ron asked, putting the cap back on the bottle and handing it back to Carl, who put it back on the window ceil.

Carl shrugged at him, “About five hours. It’s about three now, I think?”

Ron eyed him, “You could’ve woke me up, you know, if you were bored.”

Carl shook his head and rolled his eyes at Ron, “You nearly died last night, Ron. You needed the sleep more than I needed company.” He felt the atmosphere change once he said those words, growing more tense by the second.

“Carl.” He could hear the frustration in his voice.

“Ron.”

The older teen straightened his shoulders, trying to get Carl to look him in the eyes, but he wouldn’t break his gaze from the woods outside. He gave up after the third attempt, “All of us nearly died, Carl. I’m fine, look.” He lifted his arms and turned in a circle, “I’m not hurt, I’m not bit, I’m fine.”

“Okay. . . .” Carl bit his lip and crossed his arms.

Ron reached out and intertwined their hands, squeezing Carl’s to get his attention, “Hey, what’s wrong? Talk to me.”

Carl bowed his head, the brim of his hat covering his face, “I thought I lost you and I . . . I don’t want to see you hurt, Ron.” He lifted his head, meeting Ron’s beautiful, hazel eyes that were brimming full of concern, “I’ve been through so much, I’ve done things that I haven’t even told you about yet, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt as much fear during that than when I thought you were dead. Not during the herd, not when the Governor raided the prison. The only thing that can compare is when I lost my mom or when I thought Judith had been taken by walkers, and I. . . .” Ron’s eyes had grown watery as Carl spoke, feeling useless and unable to help the broken man in front of him as he spewed his thoughts to Ron. Carl let his gaze fall to the floor once again, but Ron was having none of that and gripped Carl’s chin, lifting Carl’s face back up to him. Carl bit his lips when he looked into Ron’s eyes once again, a new feeling of determination filling him, “I need to tell you something.” The sunlight danced upon Ron’s face and brightened his eyes, making it seem like the greens, browns, and blues in them were swirling to create Ron’s unique color, “I-”

Carl stepped back, shutting his mouth closed when he heard the rustling of Daryl beginning to wake up. He watched as the hopeful look on Ron’s face fell away and become clouded. Carl felt his stomach twist, but this time in despair at hurting Ron’s feelings by backing away.

Daryl let out a loud yawn, stretching his arms out obnoxiously. He eyed Carl and Ron looking at him and their defensive posture, “What? Somethin’ I did?”

Carl shook his head, “No, but it’s about three o’clock right now, from what I can tell by the sun.” Daryl stood up and stretched fully before heading out the door of the shack house. Carl and Ron followed him out, squinting at the sudden change in light outside. Daryl hooded his eyes with his hand and checked the position of the sun for the time.

“Yeah,” Daryl lowered his hand and checked out the woods around him, “‘bout four, actually.”

“Oh,” Carl cringed. His dad was the one who taught him to read the sun for the time of day, but considering his dad wasn’t exactly the best at telling time since he wore a watch that was off by a couple hours until they reached Alexandria. Daryl walked back into the shack, bypassing Carl and Ron. Carl followed after him, “Are we going back out to get more supplies?”

Daryl was taking out another knife from his backpack, this one shorter than the one strapped to his hip, “Nah, we stay here tonight. Look for some more supplies tomorrow ‘fore we head back.” Daryl stepped around Carl once again and exited the shack.

“Wait, Daryl, where are you going?” Carl called after him in exasperation.

“To get some dinner!” The older man shouted back to him as he continued into the woods.

Carl gaped at him and threw his hands up, rolling his eyes at Daryl’s behavior. He knew that Daryl probably needed to be alone and that was why he took off on his own.

“So much for sticking together.” Ron muttered behind him. Carl shrugged at him and stepped back into the shack house. Carl sat down and leaned his back against the wall that was across from the window. Carl’s stared at his boots, noticing that they had splatters of walker blood on them. He sighed when he took in his full appearance. His jeans were covered in dirt and blood and the shirt he was wearing underneath the red flannel he had took from the store was coated in guts and blood, luckily enough his flannel wasn’t as bad as the rest of him, only having some blood on his sleeves and the collar of his shirt.

He ran a hand over his face, realizing that that too was covered in dried blood that was starting to flake away. He briefly touched his face, feeling some more dried blood that was stuck in his hair and splattered on his face. He took this time to observe Ron as well. The older teen was leaning against the wall next to the window, his head turned to look outside while his body faced Carl. His boots were caked in dirt and blood as well. His jeans had a small tear at the bottom, probably from the walkers at the hospital. The dark blue shirt that Ron had grabbed from the store was now a near black color from all the blood and grime Ron got covered in at the hospital. His arms were drenched in dried blood, tangling with the hair on his arms, but were flaking just like Carl’s. His face only had a few specks of blood, but nothing too major. Carl could feel Ron’s eyes boring into him, but refused to look up into them. He knew that if he did he would just be trapped in them and confess more of his feelings.

“Do you think I can’t make it, Carl?” Ron mumbled, hurt clear in his voice, “Is that what you were trying to tell me?” Carl shook his head, taking off his hat and running a hand through his hair. Ron paused and Carl assumed that he was thinking if he should say his next words or not, “Are you scared?” Carl chewed on his lips, picking at the brim of his sheriff’s hat and scratching away the dirt and blood that was on it, not saying anything to Ron. His next words surprised Carl, “Because I am.”

He finally looked up at Ron from his position on the ground to see Ron looking out the window, a clouded look in his eyes. Carl listened intently as he spoke, “Yeah, I’m scared. I’m scared that one day I’ll wake up and you won’t be around anymore. That I’ll never be able to see you smile again, or hear your laugh, or see you wearing that stupid hat ever again.” He let out a harsh laugh, his eyes falling from the window and searching for Carl’s.

Carl had stood up from where he was sitting, his heart racing in his chest. He swallowed audibly when Ron continued, “I care about you, Carl.” Ron pushed away from the wall and took a step towards him, “Do you know why I asked your dad to let me go on runs with you and Daryl?”

Carl shook his head, suddenly nervous. Ron was the only person who could make him feel like this. Ever since Carl had met Ron, he had always made Carl restless and curious, as if he was an endless mystery that Carl was constantly trying to figure out. Ron took another step towards him, keeping eye contact with him. His jaw was set in a determined way and his movements were tense as he came closer.

“I asked your dad to let me go on runs with you and Daryl because I wanted to protect you, Carl. I couldn’t stand the thought of waiting at home, wondering if you were ever going to come back from your run or if you somehow got hurt and it killed me when I thought that I would be able to help you if I was there. I would blame myself if you never came back one day, I would always look back and think _if only I was there_ , _I could have saved him_ , _it’s all my fault_.” Ron’s voice broke at the end, his eyes watery, but he wasn’t crying.

“I can protect myself, Ron.” Carl whispered, barely able to let out the words with the constricting knot in his chest. Yet, he understood where Ron was coming from. He promised himself that he would protect Ron and it was easier to keep Ron in his sights with him tagging along with Carl and Daryl. He was thankful to Ron for coming out on runs with them, knowing that Daryl and Carl wouldn’t have made it a couple times without Ron being there to help them.

Ron chuckled at Carl, stepping closer to him, “I know that.”

“I care about you,” Carl burst out, watching Ron’s eyes open wide, “Ron fucking Anderson. You’re important to me, okay? I-I hate,” he huffed out a breath in frustration, he was always horrible at putting his feelings into words, “I hate seeing you hurt, or in danger. I just want you safe.” He sighed, feeling defeated. Ron’s mouth was slightly ajar as Carl spoke, “I want to keep you safe. But you do these things and it feels like I can’t breathe, like I’m holding my breath for something to happen and it just doesn’t.” Carl could see the understanding bloom on Ron’s face, “And you just walk away or laugh it off like it’s a joke and I-I just can’t do it anymore, Ron.” Carl shook his head, feeling odd without his hat on. He reached up to run his hand through his hair, but was taken back by Ron catching his hand in his, cradling it. Carl bit his lip, his whole body wrapping around the feeling of a wave of emotion coursing through him. He knew what it was, he knew what he was feeling. He never thought he would feel like this for someone, it had never crossed his mind since the apocalypse had stormed through the world. Only survival and protecting his family. Not until he reached Alexandria and he witnessed the happiness his father had when he looked towards Michonne and the care that Maggie and Glenn had for each other, not until he met Ron. Ron who was caring and broken, who was wonderful in all aspects, but still displayed his flaws like any other person. He fell and he fell hard and he knew that he should let his feelings be known to Ron, no matter the risks of their friendship. He took the hand that Ron was holding and intertwined their fingers together, bringing them closer to Carl’s chest, and met Ron’s beautiful hazel eyes, “I think I’m in love with you.”

Ron’s mouth opened and closed, shocked by Carl’s words, before breaking out into the biggest smile that Carl had ever seen on Ron’s face. He stepped closer to him, taking his other hand and lightly gripping Carl’s chin, tipping his head up slightly. Carl’s breath hitched, wondering if Ron was really going to do what he thought he was going to do, “I think I’m in love with you, too.” Ron leaned down the rest of the way and their lips met softly.

It was as if the world around them didn’t exist anymore. The only thing that Carl could focus on was the feeling of Ron’s lips against his own. It was perfect in Carl’s own definition. Both of their lips were chapped and Ron’s stubble scraped against his face, but it was one of the best things Carl has ever experienced. Ron moved his lips and Carl followed him, turning their one kiss into many. Ron’s hand moved from his chin to the side of his face while the other released Carl’s hand and found itself to the small of his back. Carl felt a shiver run through his body at the feeling of Ron’s hands on him, holding him firmly. He could feel the heat of Ron’s body against his and gripped Ron’s shoulders to support himself, his knees growing weak at all the feelings rushing through his body.

He felt heat pool into the bottom of his stomach when Ron licked at his lips, silently asking Carl for permission. Carl opened his mouth for Ron and couldn’t help the small noise that came from his throat at the first touch of Ron’s tongue against his. He felt Ron grip him harder and pull him closer to him as they explored each other’s mouths in haste. Carl brought one of his hands up to Ron’s neck and gripped the back of it, trying to pull him closer to him. Ron hummed at the feeling and it reverberated in Carl’s chest, causing him to let out another small moan at the feeling.

Disappointment ran through him when Ron gave him one small peck on the lips before craning his head away from him slightly, panting softly. Ron repeatedly rubbed his thumb across Carl’s cheek, “I can’t believe I just kissed you.”

The smile on Carl’s face hurt in a good way and he couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him, “Oh shut up.”

“Make me.”

Carl snorted and, after a small moment of hesitation, pecked Ron on the lips. Ron smirked at him before gripping Carl’s head in his hands and kissing him once again, this time longer, before letting him go once again, “I’ll never get over that.”

Carl gently rested his forehead on Ron’s, wrapping his arms around his neck. He felt butterflies swarming his stomach, his head light as a feather, and warmth spread throughout his body. He couldn’t believe that he finally had Ron, officially, “Me either.”

“Hey!” The two of them jumped apart, adrenaline running through his veins at the sudden outburst. He calmed down once he realized that it was just Daryl, who had just opened the door. His stomach sunk with fear once he realized that Daryl had seen Ron and Carl together. Would Daryl reject them? Would he treat them differently? Daryl was Carl’s friend, he was like an older brother to him, and he didn’t want to lose him just because he was with Ron. They probably looked like deer caught in headlights right now. Daryl’s eyes flicked between the two of them, moving from foot to foot and the possum he caught swayed with his movements, “’Bout time you two pulled your heads out of your asses.” Carl felt his breath run out of him at Daryl’s words, relief coursing through him at his acceptance, “Grab some damn fire wood, I brought dinner.” He raised up his possum before setting himself down on the floor to start skinning it.

Carl let out a hysterical chuckle and stepped out of the shack house, glancing back at Ron and giving him a small smile before he took out his knife and ventured into the woods next to the shack house. It was a short trip, as there were stray branches and leaves everywhere. He knew it would be easy to light a fire because Daryl always carried a lighter with him for his cigarettes. He turned back to the shack house with his arms full of branches to see Ron scouting the perimeter with his gun in his hands.

He gave Daryl the branches before going out and trying to find some bigger than usual rocks to keep the fire in one area. The floor of the shack house was just dirt, so it wouldn’t catch the rest of the place on fire. He sat down across from Daryl and watched him start the fire. The sun still had another hour or so before it went down, from what Carl could tell, it was about six or seven o’clock and given that it was summer time, the sun was out longer.

A sense of nervousness settled in him when Ron walked back into the shack house. Did Ron regret what they did? Was he going to change his mind? His fears vanished when Ron sat down next to him, bumping their shoulders together and grinning at him. Carl smiled back and blushed when Ron held his hand. He glanced at Daryl to see the man stabbing pieces of possum meat onto a stick and sticking it into the fire. He did the same to two more sticks, putting the most meet he could from what was left on the possum and handed it to them.

“Thank you,” Ron said, rotating his in the fire as if it was a marshmallow. Carl nodded at Daryl in appreciation.

“Yeah, no problem,” Daryl stated, repositioning himself to lay down on his side with his head being supported by his arm as he cooked his possum.

Carl watched the flames lick at the meat on his stick for a bit before breaking the silence, “Tomorrow’s the day we have to head back.” He got a grunt from Daryl in response, “Are we going to look for more supplies or head straight home?”

He watched Daryl’s thoughts flicker in his eyes just like the flames, “Nah, we should look for more supplies. Search the next town for some more food, try to fill the car up as much as we can. Just hopin’ that Abraham got more supplies than we did. Need the food, summer’s gonna end soon.”

Carl nodded to him, “I’ll take first watch then. We head out early in the morning.” A smirk appeared on Daryl’s face, amusement in his eyes. Carl raised an eyebrow at him, “What?”  
He shrugged, “Nothin’. You sound like your dad.”

Carl let out a harsh huff and his lips twitched in a makeshift smile, “Yeah, I guess I do.”

Ron squeezed his hand, not saying a word. Carl turned his attention to him. Ron took his stick out of the fire because it caught and blew out the flames before hovering it over the fire once again. Carl couldn’t help the feeling of happiness that warmed up his body at the fact that Ron was his now and that he had finally confessed to Ron what he was feeling. It was like a relief to him, he had bottled it up inside him and it was beginning to claw at his throat with how much he wanted to tell Ron. And not just that fact of telling him, but being with him as well. He has had to go through a year of trying to prevent himself from kissing Ron, from holding his hand, from showing him all the affection that Ron deserved. He took his possum meat out of the fire and checked it to make sure it was thoroughly cooked. Satisfied with how it turned out, he scooted closer to Ron and laid his head against his shoulder, waiting for his dinner to cool down so that he could eat it. His stomach bubbled up in a feeling of affection when Ron kissed the top of his head before focusing on his dinner. It was a small gesture, but Carl couldn’t help the smile on his face. He thought that this was the most he had smiled in his whole life and his cheeks were starting to hurt from it all, but he wouldn’t ask for anything better.

The night came too soon and Carl was on watch as Daryl and Ron attempted to make peace over the blanket they had to share. He walked around the perimeter twice and made sure to listen carefully for any walkers nearby. Hearing nothing, he continued his watch inside the shack house and waited a couple hours before he could no longer keep his eyes open. He shook Ron’s shoulder, thinking that he should take watch because he got the most sleep out the three of them so far. Ron sat up rigidly, taking a couple seconds to understand that they weren’t in danger and that Carl was waking him up for watch. He smiled faintly at Carl and cupped his face gently, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before getting up and stretching out his arms. The younger teen looked away from him, knowing that if he watched Ron he might not want to sleep anymore and just stay up with him.

He gripped Ron’s arm and then let go as he crawled into the makeshift bed with Daryl and salvaged the blankets as much as he could from the older man. He laid out his Beretta in his sleeping tradition outside the walls and quickly fell asleep, tiredness seeping into his bones.

Ron was the one to wake him up in the early morning. Carl stretched out and popped his back as he got out from under the blanket. He realized that Daryl was still lying asleep beside him and wondered why he wasn’t awake and on watch. He lightly tapped on Daryl’s arm, not wanting him to wake up as if they were in trouble. Daryl moved and looked over his shoulder at him, blinking the sleep from his eyes and looked around, realizing too that it was time to go and that he didn’t do a shift on watch.

He sat up, sleep causing his already husky voice to be even worse, “Hey big shot, next time, wake me up when ’s my turn.”

Ron rolled his eyes at Daryl, “Thought you needed some beauty sleep, old man.”

Daryl scoffed at him and rolled his shoulders. He picked up his backpack that was lying near their long burnt out fire from last night and hoisted it onto his back. Carl followed his lead and gathered up their blankets and slinging his backpack on, glad that they were finally leaving. Although he enjoyed the small break, it felt good to finally head out and go home. Ron was waiting for him by the door and Carl walked up to him, bumping their shoulders together and heading out to the SUV. Carl shoved the blankets and his backpack in the back of the car before hopping into the passenger seat. Daryl jumped into the car as well, already putting the key into the ignition. Ron joined them a couple seconds later, already taking out the map and looking for where they were and how to head the their next destination.

“There’s a small town just five miles away from here. Get back onto the road and head west for a bit. It’s just a little ways away from home.” Ron spoke up, guiding his finger against the map. Daryl watched him point out the directions, nodding his head at Ron’s words. He put the car into drive and headed up the dirt road and back onto the road  
It took a couple minutes for them to reach the town. Daryl sped past a stray walker and headed to the other side of town, past all of the little shops and towards the neighborhoods. He parked the SUV on the side of the road like usual and exited the car, checking his surroundings. Carl followed his actions, taking out his gun and scanning the area for any walkers. In the back of his mind he made sure to look for any more words on the houses or people. Seeing nothing, he yelled out, “Clear!”

He heard the faint sound of a walker groaning and twisted around to the back of the car where it was coming from. He reached the back just as Ron was pushing the walker to the ground and killing it. He stood up, flicking the blood off of his knife and nodded at Carl, ”I’m okay. Clear!” He called out so that Daryl could hear him.

“Clear!” Daryl called back, his voice sounding like he was heading towards them. Daryl appeared the next second from the corner of the car, “Go check out some houses and try not to get too distracted.” He eyed them and pointed at them accusingly before opening up the trunk and taking his empty backpack and walking away.

Carl blushed furiously at Daryl’s words, the brim of his hat covering his face. Ron was rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment and side eyeing Carl. Carl shook his head and reached in for his backpack as well, Ron doing the same. The older teen closed the trunk of the car and turned in the direction of a random house. Carl frowned and panic clenched in the pit of his stomach at being separated, so he reached out his hand and grabbed onto Ron’s wrist.

He looked back at Carl, a curious expression on his face, “You want me to go with you?”

“I think I can control myself, can you?” Carl smirked at him.

Ron laughed and laced their fingers together, a tilted smirk on his face, “Maybe.”

Carl rolled his eyes and pulled Ron towards a random one story house with blue painting on it and white fringe. Carl knocked on the door, listening for any walkers. He opened the door at the sound of silence and stepped inside, gun raised in preparations. Ron branched off from him, going into the kitchen to his right while Carl scavenged through the living room and bedroom. The sheets were ripped off the bed and the dresser drawers were open and bare. Whoever lived here skipped out fast. Carl sighed as he walked back into the living room, wondering if searching through houses was a useless effort nowadays if they kept having unsuccessful missions. He really hoped that Maggie and Glenn’s crops grew because he feared for the future of Alexandria if the world was beginning to run out of supplies for them. He knew that they couldn’t go anywhere else, that it would be too hard for the entire town to travel as a group and that they were already too attached to Alexandria as it is.

Ron was waiting for him in the doorway of the kitchen, already ready to go, “I found a pound of rice tucked into the cupboard. I was very successful, if I do say so myself.” He grinned at Carl, trying to lighten the mood. He probably knew that Carl was starting to get swallowed up by his thoughts by the dark look on his face.

Carl chuckled at Ron and murmured, “C’mon, let’s go to the next house.”

They scavenged majority of the houses on the street, being somewhat successful in finding some more dry food and even a small pistol tucked under a mattress. They wondered back to the car to unload their supplies, but Daryl wasn’t waiting for them there this time. Worry started to itch at the back of Carl’s next and Ron noticed.

“Maybe he moved on to the next street over. Do you want to check it out and see?” Carl nodded, slipping on his backpack again and checking his magazine for how many bullets he had, having switched it out during his watch at the shack house. It was fully loaded and he pushed it back into place.

“Let’s go.” Carl led the way to the next street over, keeping his eyes out for any walkers wandering around, or people. Carl and Ron observed each house as they walked by, looking for any signs of Daryl. Ron let out a low whistle to catch Ron’s attention and gestured his head towards one of the houses ahead of them.

“The door is open,” he whispered and they edged closer to the house. “Look, there’s mud tracks leading inside.”

Carl cautiously approached the house, careful to keep his footsteps silent as he stepped up the wooden porch. He placed his back to the wall before he entered the door and glanced inside the open doorway, Ron peeking through the window next to him. Carl swiftly entered the house, gun first, and observed his surroundings. The walls of the house were an obnoxious yellow color, but what caught Carl’s attention were the bright red handprints on the wall that led to a nest of makeshift clothes and cushions on the ground in the corner of the room. He let out a low whistle for Ron to come inside. Ron came forward and saw what Carl was looking at. He approached the wall and ran his finger over the handprints.

“These are not old, probably from last night from what I can tell.” Ron inclined in a hushed whisper, starting to walk towards the nest of clothes.

“Please!” Carl spun around quickly, his finger finding the trigger immediately and aiming at the person behind him, “Please help me.”

It was a woman, covered in dirt and blood. Her right eye was swollen shut and she was cradling her side. There was a deep cut on her arm that was bleeding sluggishly. Her black hair was a tangled mess, ratted and dirty. Her clothes were tattered, barely even covering her body. She was pale and skinny, but she didn’t look as though she was starving. Her brown eyes were giving Carl a desperate plea, but he kept his gun aimed between her eyes. What was probably the most confusing part of her was the thick leather collar that was around her neck and Carl eyed it suspiciously.

“Who are you?”

“Please. . . .” She began crying, “Please. . . .”

“Carl.” He heard Ron’s desperate voice behind him, but never took his eyes off the woman. He didn’t trust her. You could never trust anyone in this world anymore. People were just as dangerous as the walkers. He felt Ron grip onto his shoulder, coming up next to him, “We should help her, she might have seen Daryl.”

“I’ll do whatever you want,” the woman sobbed, “just please help me.”

They all stood stock still at the sound of a truck engine rolling up into the street. Carl felt his breath quicken when they engine shut down and he could hear people talking.  
She took a step towards them, fear lighting up in her eyes and causing her to panic, “They’ve found me, they’re here.”

Carl put his finger to his lips and reached out, grabbing the woman by her arm and dragging her into the other room and away from any windows. He noted the back door, wondering if it would be a good idea to run and race to the SUV. But he looked to the woman and knew that she wouldn’t be able to make it there by sprinting, she was already favoring one of her legs and he assumed that she had broken her ribs by the way she was favoring her one side. He let go of her and pressed his back against the wall, listening for anyone if they entered the house. Blood was rushing in his head and he could feel the sweat on his forehead running down his face. He could just carry the woman. Or leave her behind. Just grab Ron and run.

“We should get out of here.” Ron whispered, the stress in his voice apparent to Carl.

“That won’t be happening.” He heard the click of a gun hammer and Carl didn’t even think when he pointed his gun to the stranger behind them. It was a rugged, brutish man would had about two feet on Carl. He loomed over them, his head was shaved and so was his face. His clothes were also neatly cleaned and put together, no tears or blood. Carl knew that he had a community from the way that he was so put together. But what he focused on more was the handgun that was being pressed into the back of Ron’s head and the hand wrapped around his neck, cutting off his air supply. Carl’s elbow was sat upon Ron’s shoulders, his forearm straight up so that his gun was pressing against the underside of the man’s chin.

He stared the man down, looking into his eyes with pure anger and determination. He could see out of the corner of his eye that Ron was standing stock still, his eyes cringing as the gun pressed harder into his head and trying to breathe through his grip on his neck. In retaliation, Carl pushed his gun more into the man’s chin.

“Don’t you try anything, kid, I’ll shoot you right here and now.” It took Carl a bit to realize that the man was talking to Ron and not Carl, who he just now noticed was trying to get his gun from his holster on his hip. The words paused Ron’s movements.

He barely registered the woman letting out a wailing sob and booking it towards the door that they came from. Her screams were stopped abruptly and Carl could hear a loud thud. He was so confused on what the hell was going on, but his only focus was on keeping Ron alive at the moment and keeping the man captive with his gun, daring him to make a move. He heard footsteps enter the room and he knew that they were fucked if there was more of them around. It was the two of them against a group and they wouldn’t be able to kill them all. He wondered where the fuck Daryl was when they need him. They were trapped in this situation and Carl couldn’t think of a way to get out.

“Well, well, well, look what we have here.” A clear voice spoke to the right of him. He heard a short amount of clapping and the sound of something being dragged against the ground, “Oh goddammit Richard, don’t just drag the girl across the ground! That’s rude, didn’t your mother teach you any manners?” The man talking let out an exasperated sigh, as if this wasn’t the first time that the person named Richard had done something stupid.

“Mm, speaking of manners!” He clapped once again, “Albert, would you kindly let our new guests go? You’re making a bad impression.”

“But sir, I’m afraid if I move, this kid will just shoot me.” Carl sneered, but the man was right, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill him when he was threatening Ron’s life.

“Albert, let him go. Now.”

The man, Albert, gulped as he stared into Carl’s eyes one last time before releasing his gun from its position on Ron while letting go of his grip on his neck and backing away slowly with his gun up. As soon as that threat was away, Carl didn’t hesitate to turn his gun on the man who was talking before, stepping in front of Ron as he tried to get his breathe back, coughing harshly, trying to keep him shielded from the strangers.

“Oooo, that’s interesting.” The man, who Carl assumed was the leader, had his hands together in front of him and was neatly groomed just like the other man. He looked to be about his early thirties, with thick black hair that was pushed back into a bun on the top of his head. He had a slight beard on his face, but not as bad as what his father had after the prison, it even looked well-trimmed and styled. He was wearing a button up shirt with dark jeans and some thick boots. His arms were covered in tattoos and Carl could see some more poking out from the collar of his shirt. Once again, all neatly kept without dirt or blood. His eyes were a dark blue and shined brightly, as if he just walked into a candy store. Carl felt on edge as he met them, his finger twitching to shoot the man in front of him. He paused to observe another man beside him, Carl assumed this guy was Richard, who was lanky and had a mop of curly blonde hair on his head. He actually smiled at Carl when he looked toward and waved, as if he didn’t have an unconscious woman lying at his feet. The leader spoke once again, “I think you found a good one, Albert.”

Carl glared at him, “Who are you? What do you want?” He paid attention in the back of his head to Ron gripping his calf before getting back to his feet, raising his gun as well and pointing it at Richard.

“Well, this is Albert right here,” he patted the man’s chest, “and the guy next to me is Richard, who doesn’t seem to have any manners, by the way,” the man glared at the blonde guy, “and my name is Birch. It’s nice to meet you.” He extended his arm out as if to shake Carl’s hand and that’s when he saw it. The same word that were all over the town that he, Ron, and Daryl went through a couple weeks ago, tattooed on this man’s right inner forearm, **COLLECTED**. He must have noticed Carl looking at the tattoo because he grinned and took his arm back, rubbing his hand against the tattoo.

“I see that maybe you’ve heard of us. But frankly, I haven’t heard of you.” The glint in his eyes was starting to creep Carl out, “What’s your names? I mean, you know ours, it’s only polite for you to tell us.” He opened his arms out, as if he was trying to welcome them into trusting him.

“Fuck off.” Ron spat out, anger coating his words.

A disappointed look crossed Birch’s face, “Oh now that was rude, you shouldn’t have said that.” He snapped his fingers and Carl had the thought of how pretentious of an asshole you have to be to act like a Disney villain in the apocalypse, “Now, I was going to be nice about everything and ask you to join us, but now it really doesn’t seem like I have a choice but to use force.” He clicked his tongue at them as Richard and Albert started towards them and Ron shot at Richard, grazing him in the thigh.

“If you get any closer,” Ron growled out, “I will kill you.”

There was a moment of silence before Birch bust out laughing as if what Ron said was the funniest thing in the world, “Oh baby, sweetheart, I really like you two. I’m going to have so much fun with you. Do you know what I’m going to do to you? To both of you? Would you like to know?” Richard and Albert had paused in their advances as Birch spoke. Their leader began to move across the room, towards the unconscious woman on the ground. Carl’s gun followed his every move. Birch crouched down and stroked the woman’s cheek, clicking his tongue at the look of her before pointing to her collar.

“She ran away from me. Poor girl made some stupid decisions. I just had to beat her, she just never learned her lesson. I even Collected her myself.” He looked back up to Carl and Ron, “I’m going to Collect you too, both of you. I really like you and I bet you two would look great together.” He let a sort of sick laugh and it made Carl’s blood run cold at the sound. He tried to ignore the man’s rambling as he went on, but it was hard with how messed up this guy must be to think he owned the world and the people in the world like they were his pets.

“I’ve already caught you, I’ve staked my claim. You’re both mine now. I can’t wait to take you home and put my very own collars on you. Oh, it’s going to be great!” The joy on his face was like he just got a new puppy. Carl was disgusted with this man already. Who the hell did he think he was? “Alright! I’m done fantasizing.” He clapped his hands together again, “Go ahead boys, I want to get home before dark.” Birch walked out of the room, probably out to the car.

Carl was fast to react and whipped around to face Albert. He heard Ron start to struggle with Richard, who must’ve been too fast for him, but believed that Ron could defend himself before Carl could help him. He was intimidated by the size of Albert for a couple seconds before he realized that Carl was faster than him, he could get away from him quicker then he could catch him. Albert charged towards him and Carl ducked out of the way, aiming his gun and shooting Albert in the leg while he could before shooting him in the back before Albert could turn around. The bigger man screamed in pain and Carl headed over to Ron, who had gotten on top of Richard and was repeatedly punching him in the face, blood flying from Richard’s broken nose and his face already purpling with bruises. He grabbed onto Ron’s arm and pulled him off of Richard, who had already gone unconscious from Ron’s punches.

“We need to go, come on.” Carl pulled Ron away as he shook out his hand and grabbed his gun from the ground. The two of them ran straight out of the back door, happy to be out of that space. Ron and Carl jumped the fence of the backyard into the next one. They headed towards the front of the house, Carl looking to see more men in the front lawn of the house that they encountered Birch at. They bolted towards to exit of the street, ignoring the shouts that were coming from the house.

They turned the corner of the street, just in time to hear the sound of an engine starting. Carl let out a sigh of relief when he saw Daryl running towards them. He must have heard the gunshots and came looking for them. Daryl paused when he saw them, but Carl wildly gestured to run.

“Go, go, go! Get the car! We need to go!”

Daryl turned around and started the car, driving close to them so that they could jump in. Ron popped up from between the passenger and driver seats, “Drive east! Just head east!”

Daryl sped through the neighborhood, ignoring the walkers that were started to gather in the streets from all of the shouting and gunshots. Birch’s truck nearly hit the SUV when it exited the neighborhood, stunning Birch’s group for moment. Carl locked eyes with Birch from the passenger seat of their truck and proceeded to flip him off. Daryl didn’t pause when he saw them, just hit the gas harder and flew through the town, trying to get them off their trail as quick as he could. Birch’s group followed them for a few streets, but the SUV seemed to have an upper hand on their vehicle and Daryl lost them after a while.

Carl let out a long breath when they were back on the road to home with Birch out of their site. He looked at Daryl, whose posture was tense and his face closed off.

“Who did you two piss off this time?” The older man grumbled.

“Us?! Are you really blaming us? Where were you?! We went out looking for you because you weren’t around!”

“Found a pet shop.”

Carl gaped at Daryl, “You . . . you found a _pet shop_? What the fuck has that have to do with anything, Daryl?!”

Daryl slammed his hand against the steering wheel, “Supplies for Maggie, thought they might be in there.”

That calmed Carl a bit, “You mean you found a vet clinic?”

Daryl nodded, “Yeah, now stop yelling at me, kid. Jesus Christ. . . .”

Carl ran a hand through his hair, stressed, “I’m sorry, Daryl.”

“’S fine.” He paused for a moment, “You two okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.” Carl turned around in his seat to see Ron slumped in his seat, the map across his lap, “Ron?” The older teen looked up, worry clouding his expression.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.” Ron looked back at the map, hiding his face from Carl, but he was having none of that. He stretched his body across the center console and gripped the back of Ron’s neck, kissing him firmly on the lips. Carl went to pull away, but Ron grabbed onto the hand onto his face and met Carl’s eyes, “I am okay. Thank you.” Before focusing on the map in his lap once again.

Carl sat back in his seat and looked out the window to check what time it was. Daryl noticed his attempted and gave him a smug smile, “It’s four o’clock, kid.”

“We’re heading the right direction,” Ron spoke up from the back, “Just turn left at this next intersection and we’ll be home in about . . . an hour or so? If we don’t run into anymore problems?”

Daryl nodded at Ron’s instructions and Carl felt a sense of stress ease off of him at the thought of being so close to home. He fidgeted in his seat as silence entered the car. He let it go on for a few minutes before he couldn’t contain himself anymore. He crawled across the center console and into the backseat to sit with Ron. He was usually fine with sitting in the front with Daryl, but he knew that Ron was still shaken from the encounter with Birch’s group no matter how many time he said he was fine. He wanted to comfort Ron and in truth, he also need some comfort for himself as well.

Ron had folded up the map when Carl crawled into the backseat with him. Ron gave him a small smile, but it never reached his eyes. Carl raised an eyebrow at him and opened up his arms, silently asking Ron if he needed a hug. Ron let out a breath from his nose and practically collapsed into Carl’s arms. He wrapped around Carl’s middle and shoved his face into his neck, breathing him in. Carl rubbed his cheek against the top of Ron’s head, rubbing his back slowly. He looked up to see Daryl watching them from the rearview mirror. He nodded when their eyes met, understanding that they needed their time to decompress. He let them be.

Ron had ended up falling asleep on him, the stress and exhaustion haven got to me. Carl watched the trees and road roll by as Daryl drove the SUV closer to home. He could really feel the tiredness in his bones when he saw the burnt out house that was in front of Alexandria’s entrance and the cars with the spikes through them.

He could hear the gate open for them and woke Ron up from his sleep. Ron sat up away from Carl and looking around, a tired smile grew on his face when he realized that they were finally home. Daryl rolled the SUV into Alexandria, parking it in the line of cars that his dad had set up at the entrance. Carl looked out the window to see Maggie, Denise, his dad, and Michonne, who was holding Judith, heading towards their car. Carl felt the sudden pressure of how much he missed his family. He scrambled out of the car and raced towards his father, who caught met him halfway and captured him in his arms, clutching at him desperately. They held each other for a few moments until Rick pulled him away and began looking him over.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

Carl shook his head, “No, no, I’m fine. Just walker blood.”

His dad placed his hand on his shoulder and brought him into another hug, “I’m glad you’re home.”

“Me too.” Carl stepped away from him and looked to see Michonne next to them with a big grin on her face while Judith was stretching her arms out, trying to reach for her older brother, “It’s good to be home. Hey Judy!” He swept her up into his arms and held her close while she giggled and squirmed in his arms.

“Carl! I missed you!”

“I missed you too!” He gave her several kisses all over her face and spun her around before placing her on the ground. She laughed and fell onto her butt. Carl laughed at her, but was distracted by Denise scolding Daryl by the car while Maggie and Ron laughed at him.

Rick arched an eyebrow at him, “Let’s go see what all the excitement is about.”

As they approached, they could hear what Denise was yelling about, “You need to stop doing dangerous shit, Daryl Dixon! Or else I’ll get Carol over here and she’ll knock some sense into you! I told you to only go in there if you really needed to, you idiot!” Carl stepped up next to Ron, bumping their shoulders together. Suddenly, Denise turned on them, “And you two! Oh, look at you! You look like a mess! Oh, what am I going to do with all of you?” She sighed dramatically and rubbed her forehead.

“Alright Denise, I think you’ve yelled at them enough.” Rick let out a small chuckle, Judith clinging to his leg, “Let’s give them a break and let them go home for a while.”

She nodded at Rick’s words, “Yeah, well, you all seem okay. No major injuries.” She paused, “I’m glad you guys are back.” With that, she turned away and headed off to do who knows what.

Rick turned to the three of them, “So what happened? Everything go okay?” Carl looked away and cleared his throat, the happy feeling in his stomach sobering up at the memories of their encounter. He noticed Ron was also avoiding eye contact and rubbing the back of his neck, “What?” Rick questioned, noting their uncomfortable behavior.

Daryl leaned against the SUV and messed with his hunting knife, but kept in eye contact with Rick, “We ran into some problems along the way.”

“Problems?” And there it was, his dad’s serious stance. With his hands on his hips and his feet planted in the ground, his head inclined towards Daryl.

Daryl nodded, “Yeah, ran into some trouble at this hospital. Nearly lost Ron to a roof and some walkers.”

Rick glanced at Ron, looking him up and down, “You okay?” Ron nodded at him and his dad turned back to Daryl, “That all?”

Daryl gestured to Ron and Carl with his hunting knife, “They ran into some trouble with some people. Looked like a big group.”

Rick crossed his arms and turned his body to face the two teens, “This true?"

Carl nodded while Ron spoke to him, “Yeah. It was the people who ruined that town a couple weeks ago, the Collectors. We think we met the leader of the group, his name is Birch. He-” Ron swallowed, “He, uh, wanted to-”

“He wanted to collect us,” Carl said for him, “as in take us away and make us his pets. He wanted to put collars on us and make us his.”

Rick didn’t say anything for a moment, just shifted his feet and rubbed a hand across his face, “Did they,” he stopped, “did they touch you?” Carl shook his head and watched as Ron rubbed his throat from the phantom touch from the man called Albert. Carl wondered if he killed him or if he was still alive, “Did they hurt you?”

Ron looked away for a second, “Carl saved my life. This guy had come up behind me and started choking me, put a gun to my head. But Carl stopped him. That was when Birch came in and,” he gave a harsh chuckle, “introduced himself. He even tried telling us about having manners.” He scoffed, as if it was the oddest thing he could ever think of.

Rick nodded, not saying anything for a moment. He met Michonne’s eyes and Carl watched them have a silent conversation. Carl guessed that it ended because Michonne bent down scooped up Judith, most likely taking her back home. Maggie brought the attention to herself, “So what do we do now?”

“For now? We wait. Get some rest, we’ll talk more tomorrow, figure out a plan.” He placed his hand on Carl’s shoulder, but looked towards everyone, “I’m glad you’re all okay. The most important thing is that you came back, alive.” They all nodded to him. Rick gave Carl a half hug while Maggie and Daryl parted ways to do whatever they wanted to do, “I want you home tonight, okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you later dad.” Rick smiled at him and walked away, presumably to the house. Carl turned to Ron when he felt him grab onto his hand once again.

“Walk me home?” He asked, his eyes holding a small bit of hope, yet overall he just looked tired.

Carl smiled at him and squeezed his hand, “Yeah. C’mon, let’s go.” He tugged Ron in the direction of the older teen’s house.

The walk there was quiet, Ron and Carl just enjoying each other’s company and the calm silence around them, finally being able to relax and not have to worry about walkers or anything else dangerous jumping them from nowhere. Just the warm company of someone they loved. Carl stopped at the bottom of the steps that led to Aaron and Eric’s door.

“Goodnight, Ron.”

Ron looked towards the door and then back at Carl, “Don’t think that you’re going to get away with just a goodnight.”

Carl rolled his eyes at him, but grinned and laughed when Ron enveloped him in a tight hug. Carl tucked his head underneath Ron’s chin and stewed in the scent of Ron and the warmth of his body. His heart was beating loudly in his chest and he wondered if Ron could feel it beating against him. Ron pulled back from the hug and bent his head forward. Carl still wasn’t used to the fact that he and Ron could kiss now, that it now was a reality rather than an unattainable dream of his. He welcomed the feeling of Ron’s lips against his and didn’t want it to end when it started. When Ron leaned away from him, Carl could feel the tight feeling in his chest at leaving Ron, but he knew that they both needed time to process their run and to sleep in their own beds.

Ron smiled lovingly at Carl, “Goodnight, Carl.”

Carl bit his lip, unable to fight off the smile that was covering his face, ”Goodnight, Ron.”

Ron took a step to walk up the porch and to the door, but turned back to Carl at the last second to give him another sweet, short kiss before going up to the door and into the house. Carl blushed at Ron’s action, the feeling of utter joy and love consuming him. He walked back home light headed and happy.


End file.
